


Unintended Consequences

by Dreaming_of_a_White_Fox



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone is a criminal, Gay, Gen, Minor Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Real Person Fiction (RPF), Trigger Warnings, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_of_a_White_Fox/pseuds/Dreaming_of_a_White_Fox
Summary: In an ecosystem, all things must exist in harmony. Adding in one thing always makes it imbalanaced—temporarily destabilised. It either makes things more difficult or a lot easier to adapt, and if it's not able to bend with the change, then it falls. Nature has never really had that problem. Humans, unfortunately, can't relate.





	1. Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

> just a prologue, the next chapter is prolly up by the time u read it. more info in that a/n, so plz give it a read :^) this is like maybe a 100+ words

There are nine graves in total.

P can't recall the last time he's seen so many graves that came from his friends—mostly because it's never happened to him personally.

There would be a tenth grave…but they failed.

M curls her fingers into his hand. "I'm here for you, Felix," she says softly. "I always will be."

P simply wraps an arm around her and plants a loving kiss on her forehead. "I know," he murmurs. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

She smiles a little, but it's weak. She wraps her arm around his waist and stares at the grave names. "Are…are we okay?" she asks sadly.

He doesn't reply.

All of their friends are dead. How can they be?


	2. There's Something About Evan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now, to make things clear. this story has a lot of dark scenes and heavy angst so if you are sensitive about things like loss, suicide attempts, torture, trauma, rape, etc, plz dont read beyond this chapter. it gets dark fast. i mean it also gets lighter as it goes on but i wouldnt amount it to much.  
> i also address the youtubers by their actual names. if i get enough requests, i will put some sort of key code.  
> annndd…im using art that isnt mine…and i was dumb enough to forget who did what and get cropped photos…so where i would usually post photo edits for each chapter, i wont here :( unless the art is credited/isnt even art.  
> anyways, apologies for the long a/n. i hope yall enjoy.

The one thing Evan has always promised himself is to, one, never take a quiet and amnesiac past for granted, and, two, to never have children. He already sorta broke his second promise if one scrutinizes his relationship with Lui. If it even counts.

But, regardless, his life stability is equivalent to a white rhino. He's the last, and he has a very limited chance of survival out in the wild. But who doesn't? God forbid, he's had far too many close calls. And it almost always feels like the next is his last.

Evan bares battle wounds from shots fired, stabs, and torture sessions, too, and while it's not inappropriate, it implies the dangers he has yet to get over. His most notable injury is his left eye; he's completely blind there, and his eyelid is mangled from burn scars. He has difficulty operating his shoulders correctly. They were once dislocated, and they weren't taken care of properly for well over ten weeks.

His partner in crime, literally, and for life doesn't have visible face scars despite his sentiment for Jason's mask. He sports a big fat scar on his lower right stomach from when he got shot. The rest are smaller things—a scab there, a laceration here, a bruise not too far from this or a sprain from that.

Evan, in fact, sports the most damage out of all sixteen of his friends. People like them need to generally come across as harmless—as innocence untouched.

His scars can't relate.

They still manage, of course. An eye patch, some sun glasses, a bit of makeup and an eye contact helps. Being a stealthy vanguard has its perks like that.  
They haven't done solo missions in eighteen months. They've dedicated themselves to finding the person who burned Evan's eye and basically destroyed his body with knives and brutal force. In fact, going solo is what got Evan caught in the first place.

This is a bit risky if he's honest. But they've all been connected to an open line this time. If something is to happen, the others will know.

Jonathan is going to rob a popular jewelry store. Evan decides to sell any leftover drugs. Tyler wants a new diamond. Brian is going to steal an RPG. Bryce is going to mug twenty-five people in one hour. Luke is going to swipe a ridiculously expensive new-gen car. David is going to steal some money. Smitty wants to kill a lawyer for disrespecting his oath and blatantly lying to a judge. Craig is going to assassinate some people. Lui is going to a rendezvous point to pick up some ridiculously heavy explosives. Arlan is going to use his merc skills to take some short, on-the-spot jobs. Marcel is going to buy some weapons. Anthony and Scotty are going to rob a CEO. Brock is robbing a bank. After they're finished, they are all to regroup at a safe house in the far outskirts of the city. It's known to them as the North Sky, perched behind a hill and very abandoned.

Anyone who isn't there by six in the morning the next day is considered MIA. Everybody, theoretically, will have a flexible twelve hour window to complete their self-appointed missions. It's intended to act as both bait and a refresh. The past few months have not been easy.

Evan's captor hadn't been merciless in the least bit, and it has caused some severe PTSD, paranoia and anxiety to emerge in the dark. Trust issues are a whole new matter. There's only one person he knows he can truly trust.

It's not Jonathan.

Honestly, Evan knows he shouldn't be surprised. It's all happened before, and it's happening again.

"Are you sure you want to participate?" Jonathan is asking as he drives to the point where they'd physically split.

"Yes," Evan says shortly. "I'll be fine. It's not like I haven't done this before. You don't need to pamper me."

Jonathan's lips quirk up slightly. Evan recognizes the mellow expression; it's usually triggered when he finds something ironic and funny.

"What?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You've got that stupid expression on your face," Evan snaps. "You only get it when you know something, you dick. What?"

Jonathan cackles and turns right, stopping in an empty alleyway. "Nothing, Ev," he replies coolly. "Just a little something for afterwards. I don't know if you'll like it, though."

"It's not something that will ruin our lives permanently, right?"

Jonathan doesn't respond.

"Jo, I swear to god—"

The assassin rolls his green eyes, leaning over and pulling his boyfriend into a loving kiss. "It's fine," he says, his voice reassuring. "This surprise has too much potential."

Evan sighs and shakes his head, getting out of the car with a frown. "Fine," he says, slamming it shut and sighing moodily.

"Evan," Jonathan calls. "I love you."

He stops and stares, feeling a slight flutter in his unmoving chest. He smiles, the worst of his mood drop dissipating fairly easy. "I love you, too," he responds, hooking his bag over his shoulder and placing the comm into his ear, deciding to activate it earlier. Jonathan almost lingers, clearly concerned, but when Evan is a few yards too far, he pulls out. The gritty sound of tires rolling across the cement pulls Evan's attention for a few brief seconds, but he turns his head back to what's in front.

The designated meeting place is in an abandoned warehouse six blocks from where he currently is. It's in three hours, but Evan knows he'll be taking up most of it in order to edge his way around the neighborhood properly. It's not all that friendly, and gaining a tail is far more likely than he'd like to comfortably admit.  
He isn't trustworthy, and for good reason.

The last time he'd been kidnapped, he was heading to the finish of solo mission—walking down a street like this—when he was suddenly snatched. He got stuffed into a trunk, zip-tied to the point of cut skin, and could barely breathe for a solid day before he was ruthlessly yanked out onto the sharpest gravel in existence.

Evan's paranoia isn't a generous aspect. The fact that he's become prone to minor hallucinations doesn't help his case in the least bit.

It pushes him to hide in the warehouse until his buyers show up. It's twelve-thirty in the morning, just past the usual time he'd eat lunch. He isn't necessarily hungry, but he can feel its bland jaws in his stomach and tongue. It'll start to nibble if he doesn't sate it.

It's brushed off when three men enter. They're wearing monotonous colors that match their gang leader, who is, unsurprisingly, at the front.

Evan pops out with his owl mask over his face and his bag of drugs still slung over his shoulder. He approaches the trio at the same speed, watchful and cautious in every step.

"You've got the drugs, yeh?" the gang leader, Derek Winzky, says.

Evan gives a near-invisible nod, setting the black duffel bag of illicit substances onto the rusted table he'd managed to pull out before hiding. "Sale's a sale, Winzky," he points out. "Show me your collateral."

Derek jerks his head at one of his lackeys, who pulls another duffel bag out. He just nearly rips it open to reveal a fair trade of hundred dollar bills, stacked in bundles. Evan feels the blight of excitement frizzle in his chest. He keeps his cool, though, and opens his own duffel bag of drugs. It's all packed and compressed, of course, to suitably fit in a non-conspicuous way. Regardless, the amount of drugs meets the standard the money creates. Evan hadn't planned on holding back.

He watches them, and they watch him. There is tension in the air for a few silent seconds, but then Derek bursts into a sputter of laughter and smiles that Evan returns beneath his mask. They reach out and hook hands, the strong Asian-toned hand meeting the dark black that Derek is.

"My man. Always gettin' prime spoiled goods," Derek says, his grin wide and full of genuine emotion a gang leader is stereotypicalized to not have.

Evan grins back. "Anything for a friend," he says. "I see you got a new crew."

"Ha, yeh," Derek says with a slight smirk. "Old buddies ditched."

Evan raises his eyebrows questioningly. Despite the fact that he's wearing a mask, Derek can infer his expression.

"Bad blood; nothin' to worry about," Derek says almost unevenly. The gentle but noticeable shift in his voice makes Evan a little bit nervous, though, and the expression and attitudes the lackeys have are…worrisome.

"Have ya anythin' else to sell, my man?" Derek asks, and Evan's red flags skyrocket.

Because Derek Winzky only asks that when authorities have infilitrated. It's his code, spoken only to those he does deals with often. It's not even that he gets shanked by the police a lot—it barely happened once, and the man has become far more conscious since then.

"Nah," Evan replies, remaining as normal as possible. "Stock market isn't high. Business is slow."

Derek merely nods and takes the drugs as Evan takes the money.

"Good luck to ya," Derek says sagely. "Don't disappoint me, yeh?"

Evan chuckles, hooking the duffel bag's straps around his shoulder. "When do I ever?" he asks rhetorically, and gives a mock salute of respect that Derek returns with a knowing smirk.

It's then that Evan pulls out his twin guns, pointing the two barrels at the lackeys. They instantly become alert, each looking to Derek. But the man is retreating over the table, pulling the bag of drugs on his shoulders along the way and retreating behind Evan.

"Winzky—what the hell are you doing!" one of them shouts, but Derek doesn't respond civilly. "We had a plan!"

Evan sighs and nearly rolls his eyes. "Winzky favors me over his lackeys any day," he points out. "Your intel failed its purpose."

The two flinch, and almost reach for their guns, but Evan shoots them dead in easy seconds without any hesitation.

"I assume you have a way out?" Derek asks.

"Always. You?"

"They'll hunt me like a dog," he mutters  
nervously, his eyes dodging around the trashed place.

"Come with me, then," Evan says. "To safety, at least. I know a place where you can hide out for a few days."

"Good enough. As long as it keeps me under the wraps until I can get out safely," he states.

"Runnin'?"

"Yeh. Fast."

"Fair enough. Let's go. Follow me."

* * *

 Evan manages to hotwire and quickstart a nearby car in under thirty seconds. Derek's in the passenger seat the instant they start racing away. The police are already taking chase, and Evan feels the excitement sizzle in his skin.

"Tell me about the infiltration," Evan demands, the tires screeching as he takes a sharp turn.

Derek's wide eyes zap to him, panicked and delirious. " _Now_?"

"Yes!" Evan snaps, his Canadian accent slipping. "Start talkin'! Or else I'll be makin' yo' dumbass jump outte t'e car, you fuck!"

Derek clenches his jaw and makes a face that breaks his stoic streak.

"Hurry! Idiot!"

"Gang got snitched to the cops," he starts, skimming nervously as he holds on tightly to his surroundings. "Cops caught us. Arrested or killed most of my friends. Family included. They in jail. They usin' me to get to you—"

"Me?"

"Or people like your…group, at least. Whateva' the hell ya call ya'self," he snarks. "They be makin' plans, my man. They wanna crusade. Wash this trash up, y'kno'?"

Evan readjusts his grip nervously, because the only way garbage can be cleaned up properly is if its burned, reused or crushed. And this city is rife with gun-wielding tumbleweeds. "Anything else?" he asks coolly.

"Nah, tha's all I got," Derek replies.

"Sorry."

"Nothin' to worry about. I appreciate the warning," he points out. He dodges the thick of traffic, swinging left and right and making turns that are awkward for a police car. He starts to talk again when it calms down enough. "'Ve C4. I'll toss, and when I give you the signal, jump outta the car."

"Where the hell do you get that?"

"Lui, where else do you think? Are we clear on the plan?"

"Yeh, yeh. I-I can handle some…car leaping."

"Roll and tuck your head," Evan advises, looking in the rear mirror with sharp black eyes. "Land on your side, tense your muscles. Don't worry about the initial pain. Ready?"

"Uh—"

Evan isn't listening. He tosses the square explosive behind him on the road, and when he presses a button, smoke and fire is all that the street knows. Evan knows the time frame, and knows that Jonathan is just a street over. He grabs the money, and prepares himself.

"Jump!"

And they do.

The car hits a cement pillar, part of the support of the main highway. It doesn't do much damage, but the cement is almost a century old. Evan can see the cracks. He yanks Derek up by the arm and drags him into the alleyway where Jonathan's car is parked, and with a slight limp to their step, they're shoving themselves inside.

Derek is cramped in the back with the money and the drugs, and Evan wisely decides to tuck himself in the space between the glove compartment and the passenger seat.

He's alert, and his paranoia is blinding his vision. He only has to hear the door open to get pushed to gun-pointing.

It's Jonathan.

"Jesus Christ!" he shouts, leaping away in fear from the line of shooting.  
Evan freezes up and blinks himself back, feeling slight panic rise as he shakily puts his gun away. "S-sorry! Sorry," he stutters out. "You scared me."

Jonathan quickly stumbles back into view, pulling his Jason mask off and tossing it and the bag of jewels and money he stole onto Derek. The gangster grunts and glares angrily. "Who the hell is that?"

Evan pulls himself onto the seat, pulling his mask on with shifty breaths. "Friend."

"Well that's extremely descriptive," Jonathan mutters, but he doesn't question it anymore. He pulls himself into the car and closes the door, starting the engine and reversing into the street behind. He sees the smoke and hears the sirens. The traffic is unbelievably thick, and there's a road block where Jonathan is supposed to turn. "Shit, Ev. What the hell did you do?"

"C4."

"C-fucking-4! Are you _shitting_ me!" he snaps. "Why do you have that?"

"For just in case," Evan says, feeling a bit guilty and shameful for worrying.

"Can we talk about this later?" Derek asks impatiently. "We're running from the fucking police; can we not go near them?"

Jonathan sighs and stops the car, making a U-turn and heading in the opposite direction of the original escape route. "We'll have to handle your just-in-case-ness someday, Evan," he points out. "I bet that traffic goes all the way back to Northbound…"

"Sorry," he murmurs again.

"Stop apologizing," Jonathan says. "It's not your fault."

Evan goes silent at those words. A part of him is debating on answering, on rebutting those words and saying that he's not right because it is his fault for feeling too scared to leave HQ without some sort of explosive. But another part of him revels in those words. Jonathan knows better than most that mental illness is a thing that you just really can't control on your own.

"I agree," Derek chimes, chuckling a little when Jonathan glares at him for intruding on the conversation. But Evan isn't really paying attention.

The drive to the North Sky consists of what feels like six turns to a minute. The back roads are not jam-packed, just minorly occupied, and there is no conversation.

But when they reach the safer outskirts of the city, Jonathan pulls over and stops the car.

"Jo, what are you doing?" Evan asks.

"Kicking your friend out," he says coldly. "I don't want him here."

His tone tells his boyfriend everything; he isn't taking any argument. "Fine," he mutters, pulling a business card and a burner phone out from the glove compartment.

"What, you're seriously okay with this?" Derek asks, unfathomable.

"There's nothing I can really do," Evan points out, handing the phone and card out. "Besides, you've got friends and fam to break out, right? Not to mention solid drugs to sell. This person will help."

Derek hesitantly takes the card and phone, looking at the number scribbled onto the blank side. "What's their name?"

"Just say Evan sent you," Jonathan snaps. "Now get out." He feels Evan's glare. "Please."

Derek sighs and grabs his duffel bag, awkwardly pushing himself through the center console and out over Evan's lap. He opens the door and steps out onto the warm cement of late spring. "Will I see you guys around?"

"No," Jonathan coldly responds.

"Maybe," Evan says. "Be careful."

"Yeh."

And, with that, Jonathan speeds off.

"Seriously," Evan mutters a few seconds later. "Couldn't it have gone a bit smoother?"

"We're not taking a fucking puppy on a wolf hunt, Evan," Jonathan points out, clearly on the verge of yelling.

"I know that! But you could've used easier mannerisms—"

"Oh, my god! Do you not _realize_ , Evan, what could've happened if that stupid idiot was corrupted? He could've been a minion! A man on a mission, to kidnap _you_!"

"I would've shot him dead by now if I hadn't trust him!"

Jonathan's face is reddening. "Whether or not you trust him doesn't fucking _matter_! Someone we _both_ trust could kill us dead and we wouldn't have given a second thought! Because we _trust them_!"

Evan sighs and rubs his face, leaning over and groaning. Jonathan's argument is totally justifiable, but Derek Winzky has been Evan's friend since early childhood, before the fucked up times exploded in his face. When everything and everyone was gone, they knew that the other was there.

There's always been a distance—kind of like how a hummingbird exists with a tree, but their mutual accomodations has kept them close enough to trust one another.

Derek Winzky would risk his neck for Evan Fong. And Evan Fong would risk his head for Derek Winzky.

The car ride is silent again, but Evan can hear his thoughts raging in him at Jonathan's accusation. His throat itches and he's angry, but he keeps it cool. One of the…smaller things Evan isn't willing to lose because of Derek Winzky is his significant other.

"I'm sorry I yelled," Jonathan says eventually, his voice quiet but genuine. "You just make me so mad sometimes."

Evan feels his lips perk up, but it's barely a smile. "It's understandable," he replies, leaning back with a sigh. He's staring out the window until Jonathan catches his attention by taking his hand and tightly intertwining their fingers. His smile grows back.

The hills of the North Sky are close after nearly an hour of driving. Another thirty minutes, and they should be there, but Evan sees a black car driving on the other side of the road coming in. He feels tensions build up in his shoulders and he's frowning, because this freeway isn't exactly active. They chose it for a reason.

"Jo," he says.

"Hm?"

"Please tell me the car in the distance is just my inagination."

"…It's not."

Evan feels a hot flash of nervousness. The car looks scarily familiar and he doesn't like it.

"Evan," Jonathan says. "Are you okay?"  
He doesn't reply. His mouth is way too dry.

"Evan—"

He sees the familiar flash of a scope.

"Duck."

"What?"

" _Duck_!" he shouts, pushing Jonathan down in time for a high speed bullet to drive its way through the wind shield, burying itself right where his head would be.

"Shit!" Jonathan shouts, scrambling for a gun. He cocks and loads it, handing it over to Evan as he presses his finger down on the comm. "Guys—guys, we're being attacked!"

There are two more gun shots. Evan opens the door as Jonathan makes the car skid to a stop and starts to shoot. It inevitably breaks the window but he isn't concerned.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me!"

Evan shoots a tire, and the other car skitters and rolls.

"Can't get through," Jonathan says angrily. "Some interceptor. We're on our own. Do ya have any more explosives?"

"No…I used them all up," Evan mutters. He sighs, feeling guilty as he nearly makes eye contact with those sober green eyes.

"That's fine. Bullets have always been better anyways. Would've left a trail…"

Evan doesn't disagree.

The shoot-off continues when a horribly familiar man, with hair dyed a fiery red, gets out of the car. He points a gun where Evan is, misses four shots, and retreats behind his beaten vehicle. Evan doesn't bother aiming at the guy like Jonathan is; he's shooting at the exposed underbelly of the vehicle. It doesn't take long for a gas explosion, but Evan doesn't have time to revel in that small but destructive achievement. He feels an arm snake around his throat and a gun barrel press to his head.

"Shit," Evan snarls, grabbing the arm and preparing to fight back—but the gun barrel is unrealistically hot from shooting, and he can hear the trigger get squeezed.

"Evan—" Jonathan is saying, but upon furthing his analyzation, he shuts his mouth.

"Jo—please don't listen," Evan nearly begs. He recognizes the arm. He knows this feeling. The panic is rising, and he feels like he's going to cry, but he toughens up and keeps his vulernability to himself.

"No," the man snaps. "You should listen. You don't want him to die, do you…?"

Jonathan remains quiet. But he does put his hands up slowly.

"Good boy," he coos. "Toss the gun, please. Get it out of my sight."

Jonathan does.

"Hmm…I like him," he goes on saying. "So smart."

"Please, just let him go," Jonathan says, his voice loud but breaking.

"No. Fuck you," he snarls, and Evan's screaming as he watches Jonathan get shot in the chest. It's almost unbelievably dead center, far too close to his heart for comfort.

"Jonathan!" he shouts. "Jon—Jonny! No, no—"

"Oh, shut the hell up," his kidnapper hisses, pinching a strong hand around his throat. Evan gasps and scrambles to get his neck free, but he can't work easily with the edges of his vision darkening so quickly.

He manages to pull himself together in time to hit a pressure point and rip his body away, spinning around like a devil and managing to punch the bastard in the jaw. He doesn't bother retreating. He grabs the gun he'd drop out of instinctual fear, pointing and shooting as if he'd never worked as a gunman.

Evan misses fives times, and gets one solid shot to the stomach, but it's almost too far up to even be considered an abdominal wound. His past captor doesn't take his shit anymore, though, and when Evan sees the end of that barrel, he knows it all too well.

"It's over, Vanoss!" the satanic bastard snarls, holding his wound and sneering. He pulls the trigger, and Evan finds that the fear numbs him more than the pain itself.

He feels the heat of a bullet tear into the nape of his neck, flesh tearing and blood squirting. The bullet tore an artery wide open—survival is, evidently, minimal. Nonexistent. He'd be dead in minutes even if he were at a hospital.

He chokes and falls back onto the car, breathing hard and gasping for air. The darkness is backing away, leaving with his own blood dripping, but Evan reaches for his gun. He falters a little, but managing a shot to his lower back and calf is worth it.

Evan moves away from the car as it gets stolen, jewelry and money in the back. Further down the road, it gets tossed—but Evan knows that it's not worth it anymore. What he does know, however, is that he is unable to breathe. He can't catch his breath, and he's losing too much blood.

The world is darkening, and he can't help but keep his mouth and eyes wide open. The sun is high over him, dipping just towards his feet in preperation for a beautiful sunset he wouldn't see. It's clear; there isn't a cloud in the sky, and the world is devoid of wildlife.

Understanding, considering what's just gone down.

"Oh…oh, no…no…"

It's the last thing he hears properly. It's a broken voice, full of pain. Evan is too confused and is breathing too quickly to hear the rest. He's still living. But his chest burns and isn't able to function properly.

It's failing. Miserably.

Evan can't help but wonder…where did he go wrong? He made sure he told everyone about it with Lui's help. He made extra sure. But perhaps his efforts weren't enough. They don't listen in the context he's speaking.

Evan Fong has been so far under the radar, that to be found as quickly as the dark-haired devil did was an unholy feat of the past. Lui and Luke have erased him from almost all of the systems to the highest class. Brock and Jonathan would always protect him, Brian would always be the "eyes in the sky", Craig and Tyler would watch his back. Everybody else had put their necks on a block, risking a large axe cutting their heads off in order to keep him as safe as possible.

Evan feels entitled to owe them—but if he's to die here, what kind of shitty repayment is that?

He feels a hand on his chest. His eyes are darting around. He can't see from his working eye right. The world is too bright and foggy, yet it's also dark and murky. It's like looking at the sun through black swamp water. His face sinches itself with pain. "It's…M…ark," he chokes out, his voice dry from dehydration and blood loss.

"No—no, no…no. It's not, there's still a lot of light Evan! Stay awake. Stay alive," Jonathan says desperately, leaning over him and just short of rocking. He became acutely aware that he's been scooped into his boyfriend's loving arms.

Evan would've chuckled if the situation hadn't turned so dire.

He has to think before he goes. It's an unbelievably difficult task, considering the circumstances, but he can only think of one other person that can do a trustworthy job of helping.

"C-Cry…"

Jonathan looks at him, stroking his hair with held tears in his eyes.

"Jo," he gasps. "Jonny."

"Please don't speak—"

"Cry."

"Wh—"

"C…Cry…" Evan says, his words coming out in breathy syllables as his vision blanks out and his mind stops. "Cry."

Jonathan loses the air in his chest hearing that word be spoken so…brokenly. He becomes light-headed, and the world turns ethereal.

Life…is no more. Evan is suddenly deathly still, unmoving in Jonathan's arms. His head rolls back limply and the wound continues to stain Jonathan's sky blue hoodie. It's like blood seeping from a wound in water, only…warmer…stickier…unwashable.

But it doesn't bother him. He's in shock.

Evan is dead.

* * *

  _"Gu—eys! Guys! W—'r—ing—tta—ck—"_

Lui instantly hears Jonathan's skipping voice. His gloved hand touches his ear, his head tipping in the direction of his occupied ear. "Jonathan?" he says, slight uneasiness seeping into his tone. "Jonny, are you there?"

_"—llo—an—anyo—ne—e'er me—"_

_"What's happening?"_ David jumps to ask.

The open line disturbs everyone.

"Luke," Lui says. "Can you pinpoint their location?"

 _"I did it already. They're on Highway 77, thirty minutes away from the North Sky,"_ he says. _"I'm assuming this is bad. Jonny sounded too panicked for anything beyond being attacked."_

"We all heard him say it," Lui says. "Is anything intercepting their comms?"

Luke goes solemnly silent before he suddenly sighs. _"Shit,"_ he says. _"It's subtle, and fairly advanced; it's there, though. So yes. There's a weak but focused EMP half a mile in their vicinity."  
_

_"That's not good,"_ Tyler comments. _"Lui—"_

"I know, I know!" he snaps. "Tyler, Luke, David—can any of you three get there?"

 _"No,"_ Tyler says, and the repeated responses from David and Luke make Lui want to shoot himself.

 _"I can,"_ Brock says. _"This bank isn't worth a rob yet. Where are they exactly?"_

 _"Three miles down the road, parked at the side,"_ Luke informs.

 _"Alright, I'm on my way,"_ he says.

 _"Are they okay?"_ Marcel chimes, concerned but distracted.

"Hopefully, but they didn't sound like it," Lui states. "I'm coming with."

 _"Same. I'm finished and loaded,"_ Marcel says. _"But there's a lot of traffic backing all the way up to the northbound highways. I see smoke. Could be a bad fire."_

 _"No, it was an explosion,"_ Arlan cuts in. _"Car chase. Bad ending. The perpetrator got away."_

Marcel snorts. _"It was probably Jonathan."_

"Stop wasting time!" Lui chastises. "I'm worried. They might've gotten caught up in some bad blood."

Nobody talks after that. But there is a strong sense of alert and dead seriousness. One of the many objectives of the solo mission had been to catch Evan's kidnapper—or at least drag him out by the collar. And since Jonathan is Evan's ride to the North Sky…

Who's to say that they're safe?

Who's to say that they're alive?

No one.

It's a risk, but it had been one everyone was and still are willing to take.

Lui's ride is quick; he uses the back roads and alleyways as originally planned, though there are packs of people walking here and there, and cars are backed up for a whole twelve blocks. It takes Lui twenty minutes longer than he'd like to get past it all, but when he's on the freeway, he's speeding at a hundred and twenty-three miles an hour.

It's honestly suriprising to see such a solid number, but Lui isn't concerning himself with it.

Evan and Jonathan are more solid concerns.

_"Guys."_

It's Jonathan. His voice is as clear as day. Not to mention, Lui can see a plume of black smoke rising from the short distance. A car is flipped, and Jonathan is on his knees. Someone, most likely Evan, is lying down next to him. Or on him. Lui can't tell.

 _"Jesus fucking Christ,"_ Marcel says. _"You scared us all. Are you guys alright? Where is Evan? None of us have heard from him since early this morning."_

Lui rolls to a stop. He sees red. It's pooling in the street, and it's stained Jonathan's clothing. He hurriedly pulls himself out of the car, eyes wide as he absorbs the scene that's boiling under the sunlight.

 _"Guys,"_ he says again, his eyes dragging themselves up to Lui as he walks up with nothing but sorrow in his face. _"There's some about Evan you should know."_

The confusion is clear. Nobody understands.

 _"What?"_ Brock's parently voice speaks for everyone's concern.

Lui crouches down and wraps his arms around his knees, tucking his head in and pulling his comm out. His hot face immediately becomes sopping wet with tears as he breaks down, shaking and sobbing with a certain kind of grief he hasn't felt in years. He can hear the concerned questions and the threats of death and expulsion if Jonathan doesn't hurry the fuck up. He ignores it. He does look at Evan, though, his throat thick and his head spinning as he reaches out a hand to touch Evan's pale forehead.

"Oh…no…" he whispers despairingly. He can still feel his brightest friend lose his body warmth. Tears continue to stream down his face as he cups Evan's head in his hands.

His eyes and lips are dark, and slightly parted, and the gorey wound on the nape of his neck royally pops out like black against white.

"Oh, no…no…" he murmurs again. He leans forward and holds Evan's head in his hands, pressing his forehead against the…the _sleepier_ of the two. His shaking shoulders make him sob harder, and the world sucks worse than it ever has before.

"Oh, dear…" Lui can hear Brock's voice both a few feet in front of Jonathan and over the comm.

 _"Fucking tell me!"_ Tyler demands angrily.

"Tyler, calm down," Craig begs futilely.

"It's fine. He needs his emotions for this," Jonathan murmurs.

_"Will! You! Just! Tell! Me!"_

Lui's sobs suddenly become louder. So much pain is to come. They're shaking him to the point of spasms. He's fairly certain they're why the open line is so damn silent.

Or, it could've been Brock saying, with a broken voice, "Evan…Evan is—dead."

Lui didn't know. He didn't want to know. He just couldn't let go of his dead beacon.


	3. Wisdom from the Mouth of Babes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thx for reading. feedback is appreciated :)  
> daithi de nogla's real name is david if u didnt know. and silentdroidd's is arlan.
> 
> word count: ~4.7k

The passing days—or… _hours_ , maybe even minutes—did not get easier.

Lui can't move. His knees and calves hurt and he's sobbing too hard to stay up right, but he can't move. Evan's warmth completely leaves him when the whole group is finally there, doing nothing but listening to his cries. His pleas. He's very sure he's gone into a horribly deep shock.

He doesn't see it, but being in the back seat of the car curled into himself physically and emotionally, he sees Jonathan empty-handed. Completely. It's not just a physical thing; it's more of an…an everything kind of thing.

Jonathan is empty.

Lui doesn't feel any better. He feels alone—but he doesn't top Jonathan's loneliness. They are lovers, after all, and Lui had never found himself properly imaging a happy relationship with Evan. It'll never happen now, though. The chances…they're gone. All that's left is a body and a memory.

"He said Cry."

Lui looks at him, pulling his thumbnail from his lips and perking an ear to listen. "Hn?"

"Evan…Evan used his dying breaths to say Cry," Jonathan murmurs sadly, pressing his head against the bases of his palms. "Cry, Jonathan. Cry, Jonathan, Cry. Jon—Jonathan, _Cry_."

Lui flinches when his voice breaks. But he's speechless. What does crying have to do with a last breath?

Jonathan huffs out a shaky breath and sniffs—and he actually starts to cry for the first time in front of Lui.

He doesn't know what to do. The car is too quiet, and his voice is too tired to escape his throat. He can't remember the last time he felt so shitty. Life…felt pointless.

Evan Fong, to simply put it, saved Lui from a life of sex slaving. He had nothing. Therefore he became his everything.

Human trafficking had been alive and well back in his neighborhood. He was kidnapped when he was at the young age of twelve, and has lived that horrible cut-throat life for three years—and he had been resold for becoming too broken, only to be bought. By Evan. The man proceeded to free him and three other slaves. He sent them as close as he could to home as possible—or he set them up for life in a new home—before taking down the network.

Lui stayed, though. Evan's shifting life, going from law enforcement to the life of heists, robbery and murder, seemed more suitable for his teen-years dumbass, and he hasn't been wrong. Despite his bad attitudes and mean acts and horrible ways of coping, Evan played along with it; he'd be there when he was hurting, and he'd chide his worse moments, praise his best, and teach him how to…well, live.

Bombs, guns, selling, networking—Lui learned the base of everything from Evan Fong. The man became his world. Or part of it, at least. A big part of it.

Without him, there's nothing but abyss.

Jonathan is a bit more of a mystery. Their friendship is deep, and has always been based off of mutuality, but they always have demanded one another's attention with snide comments, impressions, and saving one another from Death herself. Lui's jealousy has never been stronger, but he saw Evan happy.

That's what mattered.

"Jon," he croaks out sadly.

He breathes and sniffs, rubbing tears away and looking at Lui with puffy eyes. "'The hell do you want?" he mutters.

"Was Evan happy when he died?" he asks.

Jonathan goes silent.

"I-I don't mean suicidally," he stutters. "I…I meant happy to not die alone…"

"I don't know," he grumbles. "Stop asking."

"…Sorry."

"Shut the fuck up, Lui. I'm serious."

And, for once, Lui shuts up.

* * *

Craig somberly slides into the driver's seat, his face creased in a frown. Tyler joins in the passenger seat, silent in a way that Lui is scared of. Jonathan only shifts to wipe his nose and sit up properly. Lui, on the other hand, is unmoving, and his knees are curled up to his chest.

Everybody is clearly broken, and will be reaching a breaking point in easy days. Even Arlan, who has always been so disconnected from the group that he never told them when his whole family got deported by ICE and were in danger because of their gang-notorious family name, is looking a bit green.

Everyone has always been a bit mad at him for neglecting telling—but he's never really heard him agree to open up once. He's still got that discord, and Lui can see him carrying Evan's dead body bridal style to his car.

Lui can't stop staring at it. Brock's jacket has been draped over him, but it doesn't cover his entire body up. Just his face, his torso and his broad shoulders. His arm is hanging, and to Lui, it's the most morbid thing in the world. It almost feels disrespectful, and his chest boils for a few brief seconds.

He doesn't have time to explode or express it. Craig, young and untouched by the loss of a good friend, starts to drive off. The SUV is slowly moving at first, but eventually it picks up some solid speed.

The North Sky is an abandoned warehouse, once used for shipping cargo but has since been bought by a trustworthy friend of Jonathan's. It's old and rusty on the outside, and musty and wet on the inside, but the simplicity of a secret door that leads down to a very large and homely basement has always kept them safe and warm.

The goods Evan and Jonathan had gotten their dead and grubby, respectively, hands on are collected, but Lui isn't there to see all of it. He's barely there at all. He can't move from the car. He knows it'd hurt to move.

"Lui," Evan says.

He smiles and looks up from the campfire, cheeky with his face stuffed.

"Yeah?" he giggles out, the giddy feeling of sugar overcoming anything reasonable.

"You'll get toothache if you don't eat those soon," he points out in that caring, fatherly voice. Despite the fact that he's only nineteen, Lui has never felt so…childish. In his own share of fifteen years on this earth, he's always had to act like an adult and take the intiation of life for himself. Evan never abandoned him. He's here.

Lui grins and swallows the six marshmellows he manages to stick in his cheeks, cringing when he starts to feel a little sick. Evan laughs and hands him a water bottle, to which he gratefully takes and chugs.

"Ugh," he grunts out, his face grim. Despite the gross feeling, he still is chuckling.

"A solid accomplishment," Evan says sarcastically. "I can't handle more than three."

Lui laughs this time. "Weakling," he says.

Evan smiles and laughs, too, and his voice sounds like heaven's bells. It's soft, but true to his amusement, and he's clearly free.

"Anyways," he says eventually after they both calm down. "You need sleep. We've a long way of camping and hiking to go."

Lui only nods, but the instant he lays down and closes his eyes, the world is mist and he's opening his eyes in a dimly lit room.

It's his bedroom of the North Sky.

There's a lava lamp on the night stand, turned on as usual and changing colors of the rainbow at a soothing rate. The door is slightly open, allowing golden florescent light to spill in.

He's wearing the very same clothes as before, only his red and white jacket is draped over his shoulders and his shoes are taken off. His dark hair is tossled and pulled out of its usual hair tie, and his eyes are heavy. His throat hurts, too, and his hands are shaking from either exhaustion or oversleeping. It's likely both.

He breathes in a deep breath that still feels too heavy in his chest, similar to oil in water. He tries to sit up, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He flinches and looks at the source, his head heavy and dizzy at the sudden movement.

It's Craig.

"Good morning, sleepy head," he greets with a slight smile, but he isn't fooling Lui. "Best not to sit up. You hurt your head."

Lui blinks and frowns, smacking his lips and squinting. When it's mentioned, yes. His head hurts like hell and he can feel gauze wrapped around his forehead.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice groggy from sleep.

"Well…after we got to the North Sky…you got out of the car and just— _broke_ ," Craig explains softly. His eyes become a little distant as he recalls it, but he breaks the memory. "You were…you were screaming about something. I never really caught what you were saying, but it was related to…to, um…to Evan. And…Cry?"

Lui's eyes quickly drop as he's reminded. His hands are shaking because of grief. Not exhaustion. Not oversleeping. Grief.

Evan's dead.

"You nearly killed yourself," Craig murmurs, his voice cracking. He sniffs and wipes away stray tears. "You were so ready for it, too. I honestly don't think you would've stopped if Tyler and Jon hadn't stopped you."

Lui turns his head away, his heart drumming in his ears with regret. He has many. They're hitting him.

"Lui," Craig says softly.

He only looks in the youth's general direction.

"I'm…I'm going to have to stay near you for a few more hours," he explains. "Brock said it'd be best if we put on suicide watch."

Lui only blinks, but he barely manages a nod. It's small and the slight movement makes the lines in his face more prominent, but he ignores it and turns onto his side, his back facing Craig and his eyes staring down at the floor. He'd be on his phone, but the device's location is unknown and he can't find the will to move his lead body and find it.

He knows he'd feel a lot shittier if he moves.

Lui is dragging himself through forced sleep, though it's more like thinking with his eyes closed. Everything is jumbled up, and he can't really think straight. They all bounce back to the smaller images of his life—of all the fifteen years that Evan and Lui have been friends, pulling each other through the muck and helping more and more people out. He's relaxed enough to fall asleep. Or look like it, at least. He's still awake enough to hear Craig whisper words to someone who barely replies, but it turns out to be two people and the room feels crowded, but opening his eyes is too much effort and he's too heavy in the head to bother.

Someone sits on the chair behind him, and another person sits on his bedside. He learns quickly that it's David, and his fingers slowly intertwine with Lui. His hands only twitch in the effort of movement, but he doesn't attempt anymore effort after that. The small comfort is enough.

"You know you don't have to stay," David points out. "You should take the time to grieve, Jon."

"Let's be honest," Jonathan mutters. "He's known Evan for…like, fifteen years by now. Most of us barely knew him for five."

"Time like that shouldn't matter," David points out.

"If that's the case then you need a _break_ too," he shoots back, his voice gritty and an inch away from a grudge. "We all do."

David goes silent for a few seconds. But then he sighs. "You're not wrong," he says. "But still."

"I'm _fine_ , Nogla," Jonathan states. His resolve to stay with that statement is clear in his voice. "Really. Please leave it."

David shifts a little and rubs Lui's hand with his thumb. "Sorry," he says a bit awkwardly. "I'm just worried."

"Yeah…I know. Thanks for that," he mutters.

They both go silent again, though this time Lui's thoughts are occupying the space. He's thinking about everyone else—because what Jonathan says is true.  
Lui has been with Evan years before anyone else. He has stuck by his side through thick and thin.

So perhaps Evan is his whole world.

He doesn't know, and he doesn't want to know. Because Evan is gone, and if he is Lui's whole world…

Then he's nothing.

* * *

The drive back had been horribly painful. Every bump in the road made Jonathan ache, made him breathe less, made him hurt more. He feels ill when it stops. Lui looks like he's in some sort of trance. He's been doing nothing but staring out the window. He hasn't peeped a word and his breathing is shallow. He looks so lost. It makes Jonathan another damned reason to be sad.

He's only known Evan for three years. He'd been on robbing and murdering sprees and hated life because he's suffered loss, but once upon a job-gone-wrong, he met Evan. In fact, he nearly killed Lui and Evan. Lui was _extremely_ ready to shoot Jonathan's brains out despite the fact that he'd been having some sort of mental breakdown. He pulled the trigger and everything, but Evan had saved Jonathan's life.

The duo's backstory has always been vague. They never spoke about it. Not even Brock, who has been with Evan for four years back then, could get an answer. He never tried; it's always been "their" thing, and even in a deep, romantic relationship, Evan didn't talk about it.

It's a thing of the past, but it's always bothered Jonathan. Especially now, but he isn't going to vocalize his frustrations at a grieving friend. He's done with being that kind of a cruel man.

Regardless of the car stopping in the North Sky, he can't bring himself to get out. Craig does, though, as does Tyler. Jonathan can't find the ability no matter how hard he internally screams. Lui isn't moving either.

But Jonathan is neutrally surprised when Lui does open the car door and slide out. His curiosity is slightly piqued but he doesn't bother with figuring it out. Lui isn't his to scrutinize. It does get to be a bit alarming when he starts talking. And very quickly, _very_ repetitively, he mentions Cry. It's what drags Jonathan out of the car.

"Lui—" David is saying, but he never gets to finish his sentence. He reaches out and gently grabs his shoulders, but Lui moves like he's in a dangerous situation that requires the ultimate survival. He twists David's arms and tackles him into a restrainful position, shouting things Jonathan couldn't catch in time. Tyler is already prying Lui off and Brock is protectively pulling David away.

The scene is alarming, but Jonathan can barely remember what to do. He can only stare and watch, and even then it's still difficult to actually be caught up in the moment. If everyone there hadn't been so distressed and shocked by Lui's outburst so powerfully, Jonathan knows he'd still be in the car.

"Lui! _Jesus_ , Lui—calm down!" Tyler shouts, keeping the significantly shorter man's arms tightly hooked by the joints.  
Jonathan, despite his clouded judgement, can see the signs in Lui. He's running rampant and shattered to the core. He's suffering to death barely an hour after Evan's death. It's become abundantly clear in the last three minutes just how heavy of an anchor Evan has been acting for Lui. Jonathan isn't sure what to think of it.

There's more shouting. Lui mentions "Cry", again, under the babble of his inconsistent words. David has all but moved away from the explosion that is Lui, though this time he's more cautious, and Brock is at his side.

Tyler holds Lui as he falls to his knees, still completely out of it and sobbing—but he's muttering loudly enough for Jonathan to hear that it's his fault. Nobody can say what he means, though out of context, the assumption is strong.

He's blaming himself.

Whatever "Cry" is, Lui knows enough about it. Evan used his dying breaths to tell Jonathan about it, implying its secrecy, but that only enforces the idea that "Cry" is too important for more than two alive people to know about it.

Cry, Jonathan. _Cry_.

Lui goes silent, though his shoulders are violently shaking and he's rocking on his knees. His breathing is loud and rigged with the grit of grief, but he's still vibrating with a certain rage Jonathan knows won't be disappearing until he's made some sort of peace.

"Lui…" Brock speaks softly, crouching down in front of him. He remains careful, but Jonathan's brain is working faster than his body currently is.

A scenario is playing in his head. Brock's holster, complete with a loaded gun, could easily be taken ahold of. Lui can shoot everyone in this room with scary accuracy in under fifteen seconds. He's like that; he always has been. Jonathan has only beaten him a few times, though those are always sporadic victories and Lui isn't superhuman. He can drop to zero, too, like how he is right now. And Jonathan isn't wrong. He hasn't known Lui for very long, and only in the past year has he gotten a deeper look into his fairly enigmatic character. But it's not enough. Lui has always confided himself in Evan; there's not much brightness to his darkness, and Jonathan knows better than anyone that those words can't be trusted at all.

"Lui—we understand," Brock says. "We understand your loss."

Lui grows still enough to make it evident that he's listening with the burnt energy he has left.

"Everything will get better," Brock says, moving a few inches forward. "It may not seem like it, but things always get better. You have to remember that, Lui. You _need_ to remember that."

Lui has gone stone-cold still. The only signal that makes it evident that he's alive is his long, deep breaths. They're a little wet and they skip every once in a while, but it's stablized enough to a dangerous calm.

Jonathan tenses up when Brock grabs Lui's lower arms, moving one hand down and taking the moment to hold hands. Lui doesn't move. Brock doesn't move. Tyler doesn't move. Nobody moves. David looks crazy nervous, though, and Jonathan understands his fear.

It happens too quickly. Lui suddenly snaps out like a snake, ripping Moo's gun from his holster. He leaps from their grasp and retreats only a few yards away from Jonathan. Lui is just standing there, wracking out sobs from his chest. It's alarming at first, because his eyes are full of intent.

Jonathan knows exactly what those eyes bring.

"Lui! What the fuck are you doing!" Tyler yells, but he flinches and pales when he gets the most dead expression he's probably ever seen before.

Lui chuckles bitterly. His hand raises, the hand with the gun tucked in its palm, the hand that shoots every gun with near-perfect accuracy.

The barrel isn't too far from his temple.  
Jonathan knows he can stop this. Or at least do his damndest best, because the last thing he wants is another heavy loss to the team.

"Lui!" Tyler screams. Brock is almost running at him, and David's fear explodes into a frenzy of screaming similar to how Jonathan begged Evan to not die.

It's that heavy expression alone that Jonathan feels the proper motivation to move. He may be the equivolent to shit as he is, but he's not always shit. He doesn't want David in the dumps. Not like him.

 _Never_ like him.

Lui pulls the safety when Jonathan takes off. There's a short six feet between the duo, and it takes more time than Jonathan likes to reach him.

And the gun goes off.

" _No_!" The scream rips from Brock's throat, and David cries out a struggling Irish sound. Tyler's triumphing over everyone else with his voice.

Jonathan is there, though. He's silent. He's not screaming or shouting, because it'd add to the chaos and it hurts his heart to hear such desperation.

Blood sheds. The gunshot echoes. The familiar ringing sound and the burn of a grazing bullet zaps Jonathan as he grabs Lui's face. The projectile flies past flesh and briefly tears into the back of Jonathan's hand the instant he pulls Lui's head back. He can feel the tingle of adrenalin kick in, and for a few seconds he exists as the infamous Delirious, but it disappears the instant his green eyes dig into Lui's own dark abyssal pair.

"Lui," he says ghastly, his voice weak and broken with shock. " _Lui_."

He looks at him, crying, shaking, panting—he's mad, he's scared, he's _hurting_. He wants death, and Jonathan doesn't deny his own craving for it too, but he also can't deny that it's not a solution.

"Lui," he speaks again. "Death…death is not the answer. Okay? Death is _never_ the answer. Am I heard? Don't do this to yourself, you don't deserve it."

Lui is speechless, and he can't respond, but he doesn't have time. Tyler already disarms him, finishing the job with one blunt blow to the base of Lui's skull. Jonathan catches him as he falls, but he allows David to take him.

It's been too long of an hour. He's ready to be asleep for as long as he can push it. There is too much up in the air for anything to be okay.

Jonathan's too tired to hate Lui, but he hates himself…because how dare he do nothing but watch Evan die?

* * *

Nobody is thriving.

Lui can't function to recognize it consciously but he can sense it like a dog sniffing out cancer. It leaves a metallic tang in the air and he can't bear to even look out the open door.

A whole twelve hours of no second suicide attempt has bribed Brock enough to leave Lui alone, but he knows his room has been bugged. He knows he's being watched.

It's why he doesn't move from his bed. He's stuck in it, scrolling constantly on his rediscovered phone and reading headlines. C4 explosions and allegedly connected crimes is the gist of it—but when is it not? This city is full of trash. It's full of garbage. It'd be better if it burned or something, but Lui actually likes it here. He doesn't want to leave.

After reading news headlines, international, national and local, he plugs in his head phones and listens to many words. Words he can't catch because the voices are too estranged to listen to.

They're his friends. Why can't he hear them?

He sits up despite his throbbing head. He can barely process their voices.

It might be because he's listening more for Evan's voice than anything. He craves hearing it. He misses it. Not hearing it is suffocating.

"Have you taken a shower?" Evan asks. Lui nearly cries at the fatherly voice. The memory is ten years old, but it's still painfully clear.

"No," Lui replies. "We've been running from the cops."

This is the memory after Evan branded himself a criminal. It'd originally been a mistake, because he had wanted to help a friend who was also an accidental criminal, and in the middle of it all, brought down a raging hell.

"Yes, I'm aware, but hygiene is important," Evan urges with a wry tone.

Lui squints. "I've gone longer without showers," he mutters.

"I don't care. It's been two weeks. Clean yourself."

Lui pouts despite his age of seventeen. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Evan says, all lightheartedness disappearing. "We can't live a stable life ever again. We've totally ruined it."

He goes silent, his eyes glazing themselves over. Emotion shines in his dark eyes and for a few seconds, his entire body plummets into a mood drop. Or perhaps it had never been. His mood, at that time, has never been healthy. It doesn't feel like it's ever been healthy.

Evan sits next to him quietly and pulls him into a warm hug. Lui doesn't hesitate in hugging him back, burying his face into his chest. Tears leak, and he's very sure he's crying, but he's interrupted when he hears a reassuring shush.

It's not Evan's, though, and that is what alters reality from memory.

"You're okay." It's David. "You're okay, Lui. I've got you."

He doesn't feel very okay, but the comfort is blissful enough.

"You need a positive attitude to survive," Evan advises in another memory, looking over his shoulder to Lui as they trudge through the forest the morning after the overconsumption of marshmellows. "Everything is against you, Lui. You should remember that. If you don't, you'll have no will to live."

"What makes you say that?" Lui asks.

"I've seen it happen before," Evan says somberly. "It's a degrading sight, and it leaves nothing but heartbreak."

"What about loss?"

Evan stops walking and looks at him questioningly.

"Like…you lose a friend…in your survival. What then?"

Silence reigns.

* * *

"Tell me about Cry."

Lui flinches and looks at David, who has been sitting by him for almost an hour by now. The request throws him off guard. He can't remember the last time someone asked that.

"You don't have to, but it'd be helpful," he adds, his voice gentle.

"Why ask?" he mutters.

"…Oh. Erm…Jon…um, told me about it," David explains almost awkwardly. "He doesn't know what it means."

Lui does. But he doesn't want to talk about it. The story is too long and has created too much disaster. The closest they've ever gotten to hearing about it has happened in the last few…hours? Days? Lui can't tell unless he looks at his phone, and even that feels like too much energy will be spent.

"He's desperate to know," David points out, his voice soft and gentle and unharming.

The tone makes him rethink his decision for a brief second. It's at the expense of his sanity reviewing any good reasons to tell the story though. It _hurts_.

He barely looks at David, whose silence is patient and comfortable enough for Lui to think as properly as he can.

Everything is generally muddled, and he knows Evan would be against Lui telling everyone about it. Lui is, too. He doesn't want his past to be known by everyone. Telling this story would tease it enough to give knowledge.

That makes him nervous.

But Evan knew that. Why hint it if he knew? For a good reason, he supposes. He wouldn't be surprised if anything to do with Cry was Evan's killer. In fact, he'd be disappointed if Evan's killer had nothong to do with Cry.

"We don't talk about it," Lui manages. His voice is cracking from dehydration and grief, and he's almost certain David hasn't heard him until he replies.

"Oh."

Even so, Lui, who has a tongue of lead and a suit of iron, sighs and straightens himself out. His posture isn't fixed, and he is still a mess in general, but he musters up what he can to, vaguely, explain. "It's a thing of the past," he mutters. "There…there are existing files on the whole thing…Luke or Ryan can probably find them…"

He feels the struggle already arising. The one thing he's always hated about law enforcement is their records and files. He understands the need, and the reassurance, and the importance, but it's a degrading thing…depending on the context, at least.

"Could you tell me how to access it?" David inquires.

Lui chuckles bitterly. "No," he says sharply and shortly. His dark eyes meet David's, and for a few tense seconds, he's actually glaring. "Evan kept it a secret for a reason."

"…Fine," David speaks, disencouraged and a little frustrated. "…What's the reason?"

Lui gives him a disbelieving look. He pauses, thinking of a lie, of an escape, of anything in general—but that frustrated and innocent expression on David's face makes him break into a smile of heaven.

It felt like a true smile.

But it quickly becomes degraded, and disappears almost as fast as it came. "Evan nearly had it all," he murmurs vaguely. He sighs quietly and rubs his eyes with the base of his palms, slumping over until his forehead is nearly touching his knees. "He just…lost his footing last minute."

He doesn't mention the suffering that followed.

David remains silent.

It makes Lui move and fall backwards, his backside hitting his soft mattress. "I'm going to sleep," he grumbles softly, closing his eyes without another word. His head is spinning and there's a familiar ring in his ear, but he ignores it.

David lingers, though. After about fifteen minutes, he leaves. And the instant he does, Lui recollects his phone and texts "new headline" to 279.

They deserve warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it gets better. idk. i shit on my stories a lot.


	4. The Story of the Owl and the Monkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im editing the tags bc i cant ao3 right so plz excuse my mess

Jonathan is restless.

David's questions are crucial. One wrong word can tip Lui off.

"Everything tips Lui off," Evan says casually. "I know I've raised alarms before. Completely unintentional, but…like…you know."

Jonathan ignores his voice, keeping his eyes on the hallway David is going to eventually emerge from.

"You'll have to address it sometime soon, Jo," Evan states. "Lui is raising alarm bells in everyone else, too. I know you didn't hear what he said but half of the group did."

Jonathan subtley side-glances at the man, but he moves away from his spot and sits next to Marcel and Scotty on the couch. He grabs a pillow and buries his mouth into it, holding it tightly with a frown.

"Troubled?" Marcel asks.

Jonathan nods.

"We all are," Scotty mutters, taking a swig of beer. He half-glares at Marcel when he gets elbowed.

The oldest of the trio chuckles. "I understand Lui breaking down," he mutters. "But the way that happened…that wasn't grief, guys. I'd know that kind of breakdown."

Brock turns his head and regards Jonathan carefully. The whole room is dawning in silence; nothing but the gentle patter of spring rain fills the air, and even then it's only coming from the seams of the hidden trap door.

"How do you mean?" Brock asks.

"Be careful, Jo," Evan says. "Grief makes a clean man kill even the most purest form of life. Don't push ghostly ideas on Lui."

He pauses at that, thinking, but eventually he starts talking. "That was total destruction," he says, more quiet than usual. "I know he isn't the sharing type, but that looked like a breaking point after _years_ of crap."

Ryan sniffs and sighs to himself, slumping into the bar counter with his arms on the table. His face is flushed and his breath probably smells like straight-up vodka. Bryce and Luke are near him to maintain a group comfort, but Luke eventually moves towards Jonathan. Ryan takes another shot of vodka. Everyone stops, though, when David walks in the large live-in room of their HQ.

"Got anything?" Brock asks.

"Just barely," David replies. "He's sleeping right now. He looked even more stressed out after telling me…if that's even possible…"

"Do tell," Brock says, beating everybody else's demands to the block. It's clear he'd be mostly speaking for the others.

"It was so vague," he explains. "He only told me that there are files on it, and that Luke or Ryan could probably find it."

"What's it to do with Evan, then?" Brock asks, his voice dipping a bit more awkwardly at the mention of his name.

"Even that was cryptic," David says. "Whatever Cry is, it took from them. He never said how, though, or when or why or even what. It's a touchy subject."

Luke frowns. "We completely erased Evan from the system," he points out.

"Cry is an unknown," Scotty interrupts. "It could be anything. A code word, an acronym, a person. It could be a ruse, too."

Marcel rolls his eyes. "He's not wrong," he states.

Brock sighs. "Is that all?" he asks David, his voice uneven.

"Yeah," he replies. "He really doesn't want it out there."

"Alright." He looks at everybody. "Go to your rooms. Sleep. We need rest—"

Ryan sneers and slams his hand on the countertop, clumsily stumbling out of hos bar stool with a clenched jaw and a drunken rage. " _No_! No we don't, dammit!" he shouts angrily. "We've been lounging around—resting, eating, fucking whatever the hell it is—for nearly _three days_! Evan is _dead_! His fucking killer, the bastard who slaughtered—who, who _murdered_ …Evan! _Our_ Evan! The _same_ Evan who took us all under his fucking wing! And there's a-fuckin'-lot of us, _don't you think_!"

Death's silence takes it toll. Nobody speaks up right away. There's too much shock, and Ryan isn't taking it for granted.

"All fifteen! _Fifteen_!" he screams. "He pulled us through our own hells, and we—we're not _tracking his killer_? What the hell is wrong with you all!"

Jonathan shoots up from his spot and almost charges at Ryan, his face red and his eyes full of unshed tears. Marcel quickly stands and grabs him, pulling him back. Ryan doesn't shy away in the least bit; his drunken state does make it easier for Bryce.

"Stop it!" Anthony shouts. "This is _stupid_! We're _all_ aware, you fucking idiot! We don't need you to retell us!"

"Fuck off, Anthony!" Ryan snarls, baring teeth and sneering like an angry dog. "I don't need your shit!"

"Neither do we, Ryan, you cunt!" Craig bursts.

Nobody is close enough to stop him from swinging, planting a solid punch in his jaw. He doesn't stop there, though. He shoves Bryce out of the way and grabs Ryan's collar with a white-knuckled grip. He manages to plant another solid punch in Ryan's eye, and another right at the peek of his cheek bone. Ryan catches his fist for the first time and slams his forehead into his nose, bloodying it in seconds.

Craig shouts sultries, slurred by pain and effort as he, a twenty-one-year-old blinded by rage and grief, grabs Ryan by the throat and tackles him to the ground. They hit the surface hard, but it doesn't bother either of them in the least bit.

It bothers everyone else though. Tyler grabs Craig by the shoulders with strong hands, yanking him off Ryan's throat and dragging him by the collar to the room they share. Bryce quickly rushes to Ryan's side, giving him support as he sits up.

"I think that's _quite_ enough," Brock says assertively. "Cool down, Ohm. Take a walk. Please."

Ryan doesn't say anything. Everyone filters out, though Jonathan storms out of the basement and up to the warehouse's first level.

Luke follows.

The room is left in a void. Ryan is eerily silent, slowly following Bryce out of the main room.

Marcel sighs and rubs his face, sitting down next to his best friend with a groan of stress. He shakes his head. "Nothing's going right," he mutters.

"It's not expected to," Scotty points out, eyeing Anthony and Smitty as they sit and absorb the outburst. Scotty isn't too shocked; he expected a shouting match, but the way Craig imploded and broke had been a surprise.

"Ryan is right, though," Marcel mutters as he leans back. "We're sitting ducks."

Scotty doesn't say anything. He stays quiet and unanswering of the statement because Ryan is right. So is Brock. Everyone's exahusted. Everybody's burning. No one is patient.

It doesn't number the pain. It amplifies it.

* * *

The first time Lui leaves the room, it's not for food or socialization. It's for the shouting. He understands it. They're all frustrated and pissed. He is, too. For very different reasons, but the context is essentially the same.

His clothes are unkempt and his hair is still a complete mess, and his head hurts, but the commotion is enthralling enough.

Bryce and Ryan are hobbling by. Ryan's cheek and jaw are swelling up and becoming red, and he looks like he's about to break down crying. Behind doors, Tyler and Craig are yelling at each other. Marcel is saying something—but by the time Lui is at the hall's entrance, he's leaning back with his eyes closed. Scotty is sitting next to him, and behind them, Anthony and Smitty are in their own little worlds absorbing whatever had just happened, and Arlan is nowhere to be seen. David's back is turned to him and Brock is just shy of sulking.

Lui doesn't diss any of it.

He questions as to what might've happened are answered, and he turns away.

"You're out," Craig says hoarsely.

Lui would've usually jumped and laughed and jokingly overrracted. But his energy is too depleted. He can barely stop walking. "Yeah," he mutters. "I heard yelling."

Craig doesn't say anything to that. His eyes are puffy behind his glasses and his nose is beaten bloody. "It should be over now," he says softly, avoiding eye contact and looking down.

Lui only nods, and starts to move again. He gets a call, though, barely three steps in his saunter back. The vibration against his thigh tickles, and he's slightly annoyed by it, but he looks at the caller ID.

It's in big fat letters.

It's CRY.

As quickly as he processes it, he presses the answer button and puts the phone to his ear. He doesn't bother greeting. He doesn't have the energy.

_"Are you there?"_

Lui doesn't reply.

_"I heard what happened. I'm sorry I'm not there."_

An event of which he doesn't have any business giving out condolences.

" _Take me to his final stop."_

The sentence takes Lui's breath away for a few seconds. But after realizing what had just been said, he hangs up and moodily shoves his phone back into his pocket.

"Who was that?" Craig asks.

Lui doesn't even remember if he answers. He just remembers walking so much faster into his room than he did out.

He's chewing his thumb and pacing, and he's very sure that he's nibbling skin, but his mind is even more rife with overthought thoughts and he can't focus. That call hadn't been a bunch of bullshit. Those words are not used lightly. The mutuality is too strong. No one is taken for granted within this specific circle—especially when it involves Lui, because his hurt is always internalized by fear and only Evan could bring it out. Fifteen years of solid trust has done nothing but good and it's gone.

Only 279 is left and Lui feels like it'll all be shredded to death if he lets everyone else get their hands on it.

He feels light-headed. He feels like he should be crying. He can't catch a breath and he's ready to die.

So he packs.

* * *

 The sky is a beautiful gray. Lui basks in the rising light of spring's sun, but he doesn't dwell in it. He knows he can't; otherwise he'd be caught in sneaking out of the warehouse when he knows he really shouldn't.

But the call yesterday has changed his priorities up completely, and he's finished wallowing in grief. Three days has always been too much for him anyway, and it's only appropriate that he leaves his feelings at the depths of his stomach for later. Not to mention the uncomfortable confrontation he'll have to suffer through. He'd rather wait. It hurts just thinking about it.

He gets into Anthony's car, hotwiring it in easy seconds before backing out of the warehouse. The road is closer than one might expect, but the chunk closest to the warehouse is also owned by the owner. And it's all abandoned.

Driving back feels hellish, and seeing the ruins of that battle from three days ago just repays his nightmares in his head.  
Cry is already there. Lui is aware he shouldn't be surprised but it's an annoying notion because it implies a lot of things.

He slows to a stop and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut and leaning against the side with his sleeved arms crossed.

Cry smiles, but it's faint and almost a grimace. "Hi," he says awkwardly.

Lui sighs. "You lied," he states.

"Um…well…I-I guess I kind of did, didn't I?" he agrees awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

Lui is nearly glaring.

"Really—I am, Lu," he says genuinely. "You're mad. I can see that. But can you at least hear me out?"

"Fine. What?"

"Dark is out," Cry explains. "Someone in your circle did it."

"Evan would never do that."

"But he did."

"So you fucking _killed_ him?" Lui shouts, confused, because that is _not_ what happened. "You maul him, scar him, take away his eye sight—all because he _probably_ let Dark out? Have you ever fucking heard of _kill-on-sight_? Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Cry—you idiot!"

"That wasn't me!" Cry snaps back. "You know damn well how compromised I am!"

"I don't fucking _care_! You have always been in the _perfect_ position, Cry! Why didn't you stop it?" His voice very clearly breaks, and tears are ready to leave his eyes.

Cry lets silence and calmness follow Lui's question, and wisely so, because the more riled up of the two suddenly turns around. He fist smashes onto the car's windshield, leaving a solid crack in both the glass and his arm.

Lui grits his teeth and shouts, sneering and holding his arm close to his stomach as he looks back at Cry. "He's helped you guys through thick and thin so many damn times, and _this_ is how you repay him?"

"…I'm sorry," he says again. "Truly. I didn't see any of this coming."

He sighs, his head hanging as he leans against Anthony's car again.

"Have you got any idea how unbelievably _stupid_ you are?" Evan asks Cry once upon a time.

"I…well, I just don't know what to do," Cry says defensively.

Lui chuckles as he sorts through the ill-gotten goods. "Sell it," he says, his seventeen-year-old mind thinking up of five different kinds of jets he could buy with what Cry's group got their hands on. "You've got a solid income, C."

He gives the youth a judging look, but then he sighs. "Sean's going to kill me," he mutters. "I honestly didn't mean to steal anything. Dark and Mark ditched me and I panicked."

"Can we keep it then?" Lui asks like a five-year-old with a kitten.

"No, Lui. Stop thinking like that," Evan berates. "We're returning it."

Oh, the _irony_.

"Thank god," Cry mutters.

Lui pouts a little and, after getting a stern look from Evan, he tucks it all back into the duffel bag. "The academy won't pay for _everything_ , Ev-an," he mutters, emphasizing his name like an angry cat.

"We don't have time for this," Cry snaps. "Please—can we just hurry? I don't want to waste any time."

"You've shaken off most of the cops, which is good," Evan says. "Except for me, of course, but at this point…" He sighs. "I don't feel like I count."

Lui chuckles, though it's bitter and uncontrollable. Everything is slipping. He can see it happening before his eyes.

"That shouldn't matter, right? I mean, I just want to return this stuff," he says. "Can I just get a redemption card? Please?"

"Those don't exist, but okay. Next best, y'eh?" Evan says optimistically, a slight grin on his face.

It's _such_ an Evan thing.

"I haven't much time, Lu. I…I need to get going," Cry speaks. It brings Lui forewards, back to the now; back to twelve years later. "I know that I've just about ruined everything. I'm sorry."

" _Who_ killed Evan?" Lui asks fairly suddenly. "I know you know, and I think I know who it is. Tell me."

"It was one of the twins," Cry says.

"One of them wouldn't do this. Why is it so hard to discriminate?" Lui challenges irritably.

"They're playing us," Cry says. "I don't know what happened, but Felix created on some sort of mind-bending drug. The science behind it is too long to explain right now, but it totally destroys your brain chemistry and makes you susceptible to nearly anything. It's fatal. I believe it's been used on Mark and none of us can tell the difference now."

"You're kidding."

"No."

"What about Sean?"

"Working it out," he says too quickly. "Please be careful, Lui. What Felix made wasn't the last. It's out there."

"Probably with the twins," Lui mutters somberly. He sighs and slumps, his head hanging low as he processes it. "I just hope it isn't Mark. He'll regret it."

"That's only if his drug dose was survivable," Cry points out.

Lui nods and straightens up, staring at the man across from him for a few more seconds before narrowing his eyes a little. "Evan said your name repeatedly before dying," he tells him. "What do you have that we need to know?"

He looks grim. "Ah…that's…that's a, um…long story."

"Talk quickly, then. I think it's rather obvious we won't be seeing one another for a while."

Cry sighs. "I told him certain details after Mark's brother got out, which was about six weeks ago," he says. "It was the usual deal. And…I guess it wasn't good enough."

It's Lui's turn to sigh. "This is such a disaster," he says. "You know that I'm still your friend, right? You don't need to be a ballerina with everything, you idiot."

Cry giggles. "Yes, I know," he replies. "It's always going to be a touchy subject."

"Yeah. Okay," Lui mutters. His voice sends out the message that he's done, but Cry doesn't move until Lui shoos him away.

The man gets into his car and drives away back to the city—but Lui is watching and thinking analytically. Cry is _never_ compromised. He's a free and trustworthy man; he can leave whenever he wants. Loss and grief makes anyone want to run, and while Cry isn't the runner type, he's always curling into his shell like a hermit crab tucking itself back into its little colorful shell.

He dropped little things in the conversation as well. Lui doesn't miss them, of course, but it makes him nervous. More is happening than what anyone is likely letting on, and when things like that pop up in things like this, disaster is bound to happen.

This new drug is concerning, but Lui doesn't want to believe it. Felix sells and buys; he doesn't create. Dark, on the other hand, has more capability to do it. It's too easy.

Lui jumps a little when his phone starts to ring from inside the car. He's glaring at nothing in particular when he slides back inside the front seat, placing his injured hand on his thigh and swiping across the screen. "Hi," he says blandly to Tyler.

 _"What the fuck do you mean, hi? You scared us, you stupid bitch! Honest to god, we all thought you were dead,"_ he says, clearly relieved in his own angry way.

Lui's lips just barely quirk up. "Sounds like it," he half-mutters.

_"Oh, don't you get all smart on me you dumb squeaker—hey!"_

_"Lui! Tell us why you're meeting with someone heavily associated with Evan's death!"_ It's Craig who swipes the phone.

"Didn't I say to find the files?" Lui grumbles darkly as he sighs and cringes. Confrontations like this are bit easier to take, but still.

 _"We're searching, but we're not finding,"_ Luke chimes. He sighs.  _"Why is it so difficult to share,_ Lu _?"_

He doesn't reply. He just stares.

 _"Ignore him."_ It's Brock speaking now.  _"Are you alright? We've kind of been listening in and we heard your fist hit something."_

Lui isn't surprised to hear that. It's almost amusing. "I hit Anthony's windshield," he explains. "I think I broke a few bones. I'll be fine."

 _"You broke my windshield? You cock!"_ Anthony snaps.

"It's only cracked a little."

_"A little! Are you kidding me?"_

_"Shut up, Anthony!"_ Marcel hisses.

 _"Anyways,"_ Brock goes on indifferently.  _"Please explain, Lui. We're all on the verge of a psychological breakdown."_

"Sorry," he says. "Trust is short." He sighs. "Um…well, long story short, Evan and Felix grew up in completely different lives, and they never really clicked, but they've always felt mutual towards one another. They were friends decades before any of us."

_"And…and this Cry?"_

"One of Felix's greatest friends," Lui says. "He…well, if you guys listened, then you would know his involvement."

 _"I don't trust him,"_ Jonathan interrupts.  _"I think he's a lying piece of shit."_

Lui sighs. "He's a good guy," he points out.

 _"He could've stopped the…the_ twins _, whoever the fuck they are, from killing Evan!"_ he snarls.  _"But he didn't! Why should we trust him?"_

Lui can't argue against that. "I'm sorry," he says awkwardly. And while he feels like it's the worst thing to say in the moment, it's also the only thing he feels is correct to say.

There is silence on the other end, and Lui feels like his whole world is wrong, but Tyler's rude words break that barrier enough to stall a potential panic attack.  _"Don't even start to apologize you fuckwad,"_ he snaps.  _"You've been through enough shit as it is. Nothing's your fault. Well—not yet, anyways."_

 _"Tyler,"_ Brian scolds from the background.

Lui doesn't believe it.

 _"Who is Cry to you, Lui?"_ Luke suddenly asks.  _"Felix…the twins…that other dude, Sean…"_

"They're kind of in a spot between friends and mutuals," Lui replies. "They were the beginning to this life."

 _"How do you mean?"_ Craig asks curiously.

"Cry accidentally stole some stuff and asked Evan and I to help put it back twelve years ago," he explains, feeling strain and tension form in his shoulders. "It totally went wrong. None of us really tried to fix it though."

Someone snorts on the other end, and it's undoubtedly Tyler.

 _"That's cool. I found the files. Super fucking difficult, by the way. Your hints barely helped,"_ Luke says bittersweetly.  _"I skimmed it. They're…well, to be honest they're bit of a worry, Lui. What the hell did this Dark guy do to be put on the FBI and Interpole watch-list?"_

Pilage and rape. Murder and sabotage. Plagarism and thievery. Torture and kidnapping. Guns and expolsives. He's done many things, and Lui falls deep in the category. Dark has haunted him for some time, and while he hasn't dreamt up the monster in about seven months, he's still scarred as if it happened weeks ago.

"A lot of things," Lui replies vaguely. Dark is the suffering. He made everything worse on Lui's road of recovery from being a sex slave, and he sports an ugly back scar because of the interference. "I'd rather not talk about it."

 _"…Okay, but still,"_ Luke says.  _"Worrisome groups are usually threats in the end. What are we gonna do?"_

 _"Lui,"_ Brock says.  _"Please don't be a martyr in this. We need your help more than ever."_

"I wasn't thinking that," he mutters, though it's a blatant lie.

 _"That's such bullshit,"_ David states.

"Whatever," Lui says. "Get to LA within the next twenty-four hours. They're based out there."

 _"You're not coming, are you?"_ Marcel asks almost rhetorically.

"I'll be a few hours behind," Lui says. "Please trust me when I say to wait. They're a tight circle and will only let you all in if I'm there."

 _"Of course,"_ Brock says.  _"Lauren is out in LA. We can all stay at her place if it's okay."_

"Yeah…sure." Lui feels a bit elated at the coordination he's finally regaining. It's an amazing refresher.

 _"Please be safe,"_ David adds. " _We don't need another loss."_

"Same to all of you," Lui agrees. "I will see you guys later."

A chorus rings, and Lui hangs up. He lets a breath go as he closes his eyes and leans back. His chest feels lighter and he's even more ready to either cry, yell or to sleep and die.

But he doesn't linger. He has someplace to be and a limited amount of time to get there.

Evan has family and friends outside of this dangerous life. Someone needs to tell them something.

* * *

"Are we seriously fucking going after them?" Jonathan snaps the instant Lui hangs up the phone. "Are you guys kidding me?"

Brock looks at him. "I don't trust these people, either, Jon, but Lui does," he points out. "That's a bit rare for him. We all know that."

They don't disagree.

"I don't care," he snaps. "They _killed_ Evan."

"We're aware," Craig butts in. "Could you please _not_? Please? Let's not talk about it anymore. Let's just pack and leave."

Jonathan glares. "Shut up," he snarls.

"Quit it! Both of you!" Brock yells. "Seriously, this discourse needs to stop! We've wasted far too much time as it is, and now we have to travel across the country within a day."

"Why such a time crunch?" Tyler complains.

"Pack, idiots," Ryan snaps.

Craig, Smitty and Bryce don't wait for anymore arguing. They both dash off, and soon enough, everyone else follows almost as if they are ducklings. Arlan doesn't move, though, and Brock looks at him.

"Are you not coming?" he inquires.

Arlan smiles a little distractedly. "Someone needs to stay by Evan's body," he points out, and with a mock salute, he walks off quietly.

Brock only nods understandingly and trails after everyone else.

The next flight to LA with plenty of seats to take thirteen people is at three in the afternoon. It's ten in the morning when they leave the warehouse in seperate cars, though Anthony and Smitty hitch a ride with Tyler and Craig since Lui took their ride.

All their bags are rigged with chips that ruin the frequency of the x-rays. They're advanced and risky, and guarantee suspicion, but it gets the job done. They can hide their explosives, their ammo, their gear and their guns, and still get through. They always have the chance of getting caught. It's better than going gearless, though.

They get to the airport by two, and are boarding straight away.

LA is a long flight. Luke knows he has time to kill.

So he reads deeper into the files. Their darkness is fathomable enough, seeing as to who he is, but the deeper he gets into Dark Fischback's file, the more disturbing it gets. The man has nearly seven pages of documentation, and two of them is all about what he did to one Lui Calibre and Evan Fong nearly thirteen years ago. He stops as soon as he feels vomit corrode in his throat, regret pitting his stomach and watering at his eyes. He feels dizzier than he needs to be, and he's tempted to throw his phone across the plane.

To say the least, he regrets reading it.

No wonder Lui keeps to himself.

* * *

Sydney recognizes the knock on the door. She's tired from her late shift from yesterday night, but she pulls herself out of bed regardless to slip on presentable clothes. She doesn't really bother with her hair, because she expects it to be Derek or Evan.

However, she is pleasantly surprised by Lui's presence.

She grins brightly. "Lui!" she says, reaching out and engulfing the short man into a hug. He barely returns it, as usual, but his smile isn't strong and she instantly gives him a concerned look. "What's up?" she asks. "Is something wrong?"

"Um. Well, I'd…I'd like to talk about it more inside," he says.

She only nods and steps aside, closing and locking the door behind her heel. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Um…no. I'm okay," he says.

She stares for a few seconds before she sits down on a chair in the dining room. Lui sits a bit farther away than usual, but he's leaning away from her. "Are you okay?" she asks. "You look horrible. How is Evan? I haven't heard from him a while."

Lui frowns. "He's…uh. He's…" He pauses and clears his throat. "Evan is…Evan's dead."

She goes deathly still and smiles, laughing as if it's a joke. "You're kidding," she says. "That's a bad joke, Lui. Take it back. Evan's not dead."

Lui's lips press together. "I'm sorry," he says. "He really is dead, Syd. He died three days ago."

She becomes speechless and quickly turns away, tears shedding from her waterlid and landing on her lap. Her deathly silence is greeted with an uncomfortable expectation. Lui feels disgusting for not knowing what to do.

"I see," she finally manages, wiping away streams of tears as she toughens up and looks at him. But her strength is faltering and soon enough, she slumps. "I see…"

"I'm sorry," he says again, helpless and clueless.

She shakes her head. "You're okay," she murmurs. "How…um, how did he die?"

Lui pats the curve between his shoulder and neck. "Shot," he says. "I-I'm very sure that he got attacked by one of the twins. Apparently he spilled the beans about Cry before…um…before his last breath."

"What an idiot," she murmurs distressfully. "A double idiot…"

"Someone is screwing them over," Lui says. "I came over to ask if you knew anything. I visited with Cry an hour ago."

"I haven't contacted Cry in a few weeks," she says somberly. "Felix has been messaging me though. Something about a drug…I called and he said to not trust anyone."

"Why?"

"Drug ruins the person," she mutters. "Or something like…ruins and changes their heads, I hear. Kills, too."

Lui goes silent. "Interesting," he says. He watches her with slit eyes, his brow creasing. "Sydney."

"Hm?"

"You're cool. I like you."

She bursts into a rosey-cheek red grin. "Really? Thanks! I think you're cool, too."

"Sydney."

"What do you want now?"

"You're a failure."

Instantly, her beaming smile drops into a teary-eyed betrayal. "That's so rude," she says sadly. "How dare you, Lui. I hate you."

Her emotions aren't right. Even for a woman, they're moving too fast for it to be natural.

"Sydney, you should sit up straight," he says with a tone of suggestion.

"I should?"

"Yeah."

And she does. Realization slams him. He loses his breath under that weight. Sydney is an individual woman. She doesn't take anything like what Lui is suggesting. She's a tough youth with a strong will.

"Are…are you okay?" he asks carefully. "Do your neck or wrists hurt?"

Sydney frowns a little and rubs the left side of her neck. "You know, I am a little sore right here…" she says. "I think I just slept wrong."

He weakly smiles and nods, and spots a puncture wound.

"Is there something the matter?" she asks tiredly. "You've got that face."  
"I'm…I'm managing," he replies. "You aren't."

She snickers, the sound out of place and unholy in the situation. "True."

"You should go to the hospital," he suggests. "Get your brain checked out. You need to make sure you're okay."

"Sounds good," she says. "Let me get ready."

"I'll come with you."

"Okay!"

Her chirpiness twists his heart. He hates it. She's supposed to be mourning over Evan's death.

Instead she's getting ready to go to the hospital and get a brain scan to find out what the hell is happening in her head. The drug is fatal because it destroys the brain. If it's true, then Sydney's going to die.

Another loss. Jolly.

Five minutes pass. Sydney is oddly quiet, and instantly, he's worried.

And rightfully so, too. Sydney is on the ground with a hair brush in one hand and her eyes closed. Her chest isn't moving. Her face is extremely red and there is a sheet of sweat left over from what seems to be an extreme fever. He rushes up to her and feels for a pulse.

There…is none.

Blood spills from her nose. Lui's eyes widen. His hands cup her temples gently. They're tender and hot, and his touch feels like they'd break skin if he's not careful. It doesn't stop his tears from overflowing and falling silently.

It's another thing in life he needs to mourn.

Sydney has always been good to him and Evan; so good that the other duo dated for a solid two years. It ended in an awkward relationship but they helped each other when they could. Lui buries his face into his palms and sobs softly, hunching over his knees to cry with his forehead pressed to the ground next to Sydney's hot head.

Death is at his doorstep. Nothing is going to get better.

The sharp pain in his heart says everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gets worse.


	5. Catching Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story just hit the 50k word mark…im rlly happy about it :^) i thought about a sequel for the longest time bc i like my stories short and my chapters long. but im thinking about merging the two. it might be a bit late though, i literally set up the last five chapters to end and smoothly transition into a sequel. oops. i would go further into it but that spoils the story.
> 
> word count: 4.5k
> 
> (excuse the angst)

Brock remembers, from a really long time ago, how much of a beating Lui can take. It was when they first met. Or when Evan saved his ass and got caught doing it, at least.

It'd been a mercenary attack. A bit of a brutal one, too. Brock's gang had been totally slaughtered. Being the leader back then, he'd expected to be killed first but it'd been the opposite. He was captured and became a prisoner for almost three months.

It was luck that had Evan storming in, guns blazing and bombs destroying. Or a job. Or revenge. Brock never questioned it, but Evan did mention that he hated the group. Evan was captured two hours into his attack. It'd taken an amazing amount of time to catch him; he was such a slippery bastard, and he had a lot of gear. He'd been knocked out and thrown in with Brock. Apparently, Evan had something they wanted and they needed it ASAP.

"Do you know what they want?" Brock remembers asking.

He merely shakes his head. "No," he replies. "I'm not a big-time criminal everybody hates. Well—not yet, but I've got friends like that. What about you?"

"I'm a gang leader," Brock states. "I mean…I used to be. I'm not even useful here."

"You hate it?"

"Yeah."

"I'm…uh, Evan. My code name is Vanoss."

"I don't have a codename," he says. "I just go by Brock."

"Cool," Evan says casually, his tongue distractedly touching his split lip. He grimaces. "Well…anyways, how long have you been here?"

"I don't know. I can't do anything but eat and sleep," Brock says. "It's…hellish after a while."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that," Evan says sympathetically. His bloody brow creases into a frown. "If my friend pulls through and makes it, we have every oppurtunity to safely get out."

Brock gives him a hopeful look, but it's degraded by disbelief. "How do you know your friend really will?" he asks.

"I have faith," Evan replies. "Give it a few hours. He'll be here."

Brock clearly remembers turning away to nearly cry tears of doubt.

But, true to Evan's words, his friend does arrive. The group of mercenaries are still recovering, and they didn't expect another heavy bombing, but those that did regroup did their best to defend themselves. Brock remembers watching the younger man stumble into the shipping container, a swollen left cheek popping up against his face. There had been a gash across his forehead and he was coated in debris and dust from his explosives, but he made it.

"See? He's here," Evan tells Brock.

Lui, who was nameless to the former gang leader once upon a time, gave Brock the most suspicious look ever. "I don't like him," he had told Evan right off the bat.

Evan smiles cheekily. "You don't like anyone," he points out. "Come on. We gotta get out before anyone takes even more notice."

"I don't like you, either," Lui points out, scrunching his nose at him. "You're an asshole. I think I'll just leave you."

Evan chuckles. "You wouldn't dare."

"You're right; you're the only one who can drive a getaway car properly," Lui says dryly, and moves towards them, but there's a gunshot that grazes his ear from behind and a buff man who's charging at him.

Evan and Brock had screamed their warnings but Lui had been tackled and brutally punched maybe five or six times in his face before he shot the bastard in the throat. Brock remembers the stillness in his body and the blood spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. Evan had looked so worried, and in the few seconds they both thought Lui had died, he looked like he'd lost his entire footing in life.

Brock saw his will break.

But then Lui woke up. The memory makes Brock smile a little. Evan's world had been elated and blessed to its former glory. Originally, Brock was going to go his separate way—but Lui played the smart card and said three is better than two.

Brock still doesn't understand why he'd been invited.

Their group of three rapidly became a group of sixteen. It took four years to recruit, and after Jonathan, it stopped. Nobody really asked questions about that since Evan has always been so generous and brotherly to them all despite his daily deeds. Looking back now, Brock wishes everybody had been asking questions. If they had, they wouldn't need to learn the hard way about the history Evan and Lui share with Cry and his band of buds.

"Has Lui contacted anybody?" Marcel asks when they reach the airport's pick-up area. LA is vibrant and bright, and when the weather app is checked, it's an easy seventy degrees outside.

"No, I don't think so," Jonathan mutters. "What the hell is he even doing?"

Anthony makes a face. "Would've been nice if he actually told us," he says.

"He never actually tells us anything," Smitty points out.

"Let's not get into that," Brock butts in. "I've sent Lauren's location to everybody. If you're not there within the next six hours, we'll assume the worst. We can't have that happening."

Everybody nods their agreement, and they individually filter out.

Brock can't help but review his life in the past seven years. Especially the one where he first meets Evan and Lui. They saved him from a life of ruin. They gave him friends.

They gave him tact and happiness. They didn't give up on him. They didn't really give up on anyone, as a matter of fact. Even if they weren't all that close. Scotty, Smitty and Arlan are good examples; they've always been a bit disconnected and stayed in small groups of friends, but still yet Evan and Lui picked them up and brought them in.

He taught them how to properly hold a gun, to conceal it, to aim, how to win in hand-to-hand combats. He taught them the ways of the criminal life; he made sure everyone remained discreet and fit. It's always been like a group of cousins, close and happier and wholesome together. Brock has always loved that.

"Where will you be going?" the uber driver asks as Brock and he slips into the front seat. He's a bit shorter than Brock and has blue eyes. He has bleach blond hair and a blond-brown scruff of a beard. His voice is accented, though Brock doesn't know his accents all that well so he can't place it.

Luke messages him then. _Felix_ , it says, and Brock almost makes a face. He doesn't know what the hell that means. So he just tells the man his destination, and they drive off. Brock is mostly silent throughout the ride, as is his driver, but his head is full of thoughts.

It doesn't stop him from noticing the wrong turn the dumbass takes.

"You made a wrong turn," Brock says, his hand twitching for the gun tucked in his well-hidden holster.

"No, this is right," he says. "I know LA. It's okay."

Brock doesn't let his guard down. It's when they get deeper into the wrong neighborhood that he pulls his gun out discreetly. "You're lying," he says. "What do you want?"

The driver slows to a stop next to a sidewalk. Wise. There's a camera nearby. It's not close enough to catch their faces but it's close enough to catch any shooting that might happen.

"Information," he says. "Where's Vanoss?"

Brock narrows his eyes. "Why do you want to know where Vanoss is?"

"I'm his friend," the driver states. "An old friend."

"I don't believe you," Brock says challengingly.

"I know," he replies. "My name is Felix. I'm sure you've heard about me."

"…You're Cry's friend?"

"Yup."

"You've basically kidnapped me," Brock points out. "What do you want?"

"I want nothing," Felix replies. "Where is Vanoss?"

"You seriously haven't heard?"

Felix frowns. "…No, I haven't. What happened? Is he alright?"

Brock gives him a disbelieving look. "You _ordered_ his death!" he yells. "You wanted him dead for breaking this…this Dark Fischback out!"

Felix's eyes widen. He goes silent for a few moments as he turns his head away. He's clearly thinking. "…Evan is dead?"

"Yes."

Felix's hands tighten on the wheel, his knuckles bleached white with his squeeze. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and glass acumulates in his eyes.  
Brock knows that face. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Felix mutters. "That's the point. I don'…I didn't _do_ anything."

"That's…" Brock frowns. "Okay. Please explain."

Felix sighs and looks over his shoulder. "We'll need to be on the move," he mutters as he pulls out of the parking spot and back into the street. "I haven't been active for three weeks. I can't say the same for everyone else. I've been watching my whole world very closely as of late. Can't say I'm happy with the result. The Fischback's have been doin' a lot of shit."

"They're muckin' everything up is what I've heard," Brock says. "Cry stopped by and met with Lui."

"Are you listening to him?" Felix asks quickly.

"None of us trust him," Brock replies. "Lui is a different story."

"Understandable. But he's an open-minded guy," Felix points out. "He'll at least take it into account."

"He told us to come to LA because we're supposed to look for you and your friends," Brock says. He takes notice of the proper route they're taking. "Besides, why should we trust you?"

"I'm not under the influence," Felix states. "They haven't injected me with that stupid drug."

"You brought it into our lives, you idiot."

"No, I didn't. Mark and Sean created it," Felix snarls. "I am only a networker. I don't do that shit. Whatever's up in the air, I tell my employers or friends who need it. Mark stole it from the facility after Dark suggested it."

"Why would he do that?" Brock asks. "He told a whole new story, Felix. I can't trust your words."

"You know what? I'm your fucking driver. Do you want to walk to Lauren's? Because it's pretty fuckin' far from here!"

Brock goes silent.

"See? I know more than you think, you idiot," he snaps. "I am not your enemy. Take my word on it, _Brock_."

He glares.

"Better," Felix mutters. "Now—"

But he's brutally cut off when a truck slams into Brock's side of the car. The world spins, and glass flies, and Brock feels a pain in his head and ankle before he completely blacks out in the rubble of the crash.

He swears he feels gasoline pour down his front.

* * *

"Tom? …Yeah. Hi…yeah, yeah—I know, I know, I'm sorry…it's been chaotic lately. I haven't been in touch for a while. I…uh, I need you to do me a favor…I'm at Sydney's place right now."

Lui runs a hand through his hair and looks at the woman sadly.

 _"Why? What's happened?"_ Tom asks.

"She…uh, she died," he responds hoarsely. "Her brain fried. I need help."

Tom goes silent. _"Give me a bit,"_ is all he can say before he abruptly hangs up.

Lui doesn't blame him. Tom and Sydney have been good friends. Her loss hurts. He makes sure he places Sydney on the bed. He knows Tom wouldn't be able to sleep properly.

"Lui?" Tom calls as he enters.

Lui looks up. "Here."

Tom enters the bedroom, looking directly at the dark-haired heister. His stare doesn't linger, though. He looks at Sydney's body, and for a few seconds he goes silent.

"I'm pretty sure they got here before I did," Lui states somberly, straightening up with a slight breath. "Have you heard about what's been going on with 279, Tom? Sydney is a victim of the result."

Tom stays still for a few seconds before he looks back at Lui. "I heard," he says. "I…I learned…three or so days ago. Word was up in the air that Dark had taken his chance for freedom and was coming here."

"You didn't tell us?" Lui asks.

"Using any other form of communication proved to be risky," Tom explains. At Lui's frown, his face slackens. "I thought you'd know by now."

"I haven't exactly been active," Lui snaps.

"Why? What happened?"

"Evan's…dead," he struggles. "Died three days ago. Somebody over on Felix's team might've ordered his death over some skirmish with Dark's escape. Or…fuckin'… _something_. I don't know the whole story. Cry mixed it up."

Tom sighs. "He's likely been affected."

Lui's brow creased as he looks down. "I was afraid of that," he mutters.

"We all are. Where is everyone else?"

Lui rubs his eyes with his good hand. Everything's falling apart before it even began. "In LA," he mutters. He looks up at Tom, but he gives the man a suspicious look. Tom essentially hates LA because he's had not-so-good luck with it there. Every job in LA has gone wrong multiple times. The mention is enough to make him at least scrunch his nose or have some sort of body language reaction.

When Lui looks at him, he sees a blank expression.

So he smiles. It's a bit tired, and his puffy eyes make it look pathetic, but it's enough to be persuasive. "You should come with me," he suggests.

Tom's eyes light up. "Okay," he says. "When are we leaving?"

"In a few moments," he states. "First tell me about Dark's involvement with all this…communication corruption."

"He somehow got Sean to pry his little grubby knives into most systems. Communication of any sort is essentially too risky," Tom explains. He frowns and looks at Sydney sadly. "I've been worrying."

"What held you back for three days?"

"Nothing…actually, I…I got to…I came here—to Sydney's house—to tell her…" he stutters out. "I'm…I'm not sure what happened after that, but I'm pretty sure I blacked out. I remember waking up but somebody told me to forget."

"And you listened," Lui murmurs.

"Yeah, and then I woke up at my place yesterday morning," he says. "I didn't really think much of it. Am I supposed to?"

As far as Lui is concerned, Tom should be. It's obvious by now that the drug has gotten into his system. If he and Sydney were injected with it around the same time, then Tom's death is inevitable. It makes him wanna cry. His friends are dropping like flies.

"No," he says smoothly. "Let me worry, okay?"

Tom frowns at him. "You're too busy mourning over Evan to worry about me," he says. "I'm not oblivious, Lui. You and everything around you is falling apart. At least let me support you best I can."

Lui remains speechless. But then he nods and stands, cringing at the sharp and swollen pain that shoots up his broken arm. "We'll need to take care of Sydney," he says.

"Let me," Tom volunteers darkly.

"No, I will," Lui states. "You have to remember what happened, okay? Dark is too elusive right now. We need more information."

He sighs, clearly having a bit of a problem with that—but he goes along with it. "Other than that," he mutters, "what do you need me to do?"

He holds out his keys. "Take my car to the back alleyway. I'll be taking Sydney down the fire escape," he says. "Be careful. Keep your guard up, okay? I don't need another loss."

Tom's lips press tightly together as he nods, taking the keys with shaky hands and walking away.

Lui does his best to not waste time. He searches the apartment for anything he knows will be essential for the future before he stuffs it into a bag he recognizes. It's the same bag Sydney uses to walk up to Evan and Lui. She smiles and spreads her arms out.

"Oh, Evan," she says. "It's been such a long time! C'mere, I need a hug."

Evan smiles a little and gives her the requested hug. "It's good to see you Sydney," he says. "It's been a while."

Lui watches from a distance. By that time it had been about two years since Evan sent Sydney off to avoid Dark. With the bastard behind secure bars after a long time of bloodshed and abuse, it's been deemed safe enough for her return.

Brock rolls down a window and looks at Lui's cut up, bruised face. By that time, it'd only been three days since they've taken Brock under their wings—freshly healed and free. "Who's she?" he asks.

"An old friend," Lui replies. "She's been under witness protection for a while."

"The…law enforcement kind?"

"Of course not; we would never," Lui says. "We have our own system, you know. Off the books and better."

"Why would she need that?" he asks.

"Evan won't tell you," Lui states.

"…Oh. Um. Okay. Will you?"

Lui smiles. "You should learn early on, Brock, that anything Evan won't tell…I won't tell," he says. Brock stares at him for a little while longer before he sighs and gives up in time for Evan and Sydney to approach the car.

"Oh, Lui! You've grown! Aw, he looks like an actual man now—but what happened to your face, honey? Are you okay?" she cooes.

He smiles. "I'm fine," he replies, accepting her hug and opening the back door for her. "Just another skirmish. Nothing to worry about."

"You look like your face caved in, Lu," she points out worriedly, tossing her bag into the back seat. "The same goes for you, Ev. Did another job go wrong?"

"No, actually, it went pretty well in my opinion," Evan says as he stuffs her suitcase into the trunk. "We got a new recruit."

"You're _recruiting_?" she echoes. "That's new. You guys act like those over-zealous fellas who think you can only marry once in your lifetime."

"Wasn't me." Evan chuckles.

"Oh, Lu. You're finally making some friends," she says.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just get in the car."

"Accomodations," she goes on. "Company."

"Uh-huh."

"Buddies."

Lui's cheeks flush a little.

"Wing man!"

"Okay! I get it," he says, shutting the door and sitting in the drivers seat. Evan sits in the back next to Sydney. "We met barely three days ago anyways…"

"You two make friends fast," she points out. "I have faith they'll all be good."

Lui snorts dryly and just starts driving, blatantly ignoring the conversation going on as he leaves the airport.

He sighs when he picks Sydney's horribly limp body up, hauling her on his back and making his way to the window. He awkwardly slides out of the apartment and hobbles down the risky stairs. Tom is standing outside of his car, arms crossed and eyes glassy. He helps Lui get her down, and when she's propped to look as if she were asleep, they drive off.

Tom is deathly silent, and Lui is too deep in his own thoughts to really notice. Dark is picking them all off. One by one, starting with Evan and likely ending with Lui…if he hasn't changed. He probably hasn't. This is something he would do. He's seeking revenge of some sort on the people who stashed him away like a nuclear bomb. Sydney, Tom, 279, himself and Evan were majorly involved. And Brock smelled the tang of the aftermath.

It makes Lui worried. Perhaps he shouldn't've sent them off to LA. Perhaps they should've stayed—but that makes them sitting ducks. Honestly, it's one of those moments where two paths cross and melt into one no matter what. He hates those.

"You…you helped us hack into Dark's system, right?" Lui says to Tom. He nods. "And you visited him, right?" He nods again. "What did he say to you? I remember you two spoke."

"…He wasn't kind," Tom mutters, his voice cracking quietly. "He promised he'd kill us all."

"All?"

"All." He sighs. "Now that I think about it, it sounds like he's starting to make his moves…"

Lui glances at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm…I'm fine," he mutters tiredly. "Just a little warm…"

"Stay awake," Lui snaps loudly. "I don't care how bad you get, Tom. You have to stay awake and tell me what you remember."

He doesn't say anything. He just nods and straightens his back up, carefully watching the road ahead. After a while his eyes are rolling with exhaustion, but he stays strong.

It's clear he doesn't have much time.

"What do you remember, Tom? About that night, three days ago," Lui asks.

"Uh…" He blinks and rubs the sleep from his eyes. "Oh…e-hm…th…I-I remember clearly enough to…to confirm that Dark is going on a murder spree…"

"What else?"

"I…I nearly got away," he goes on. "I managed to get out of the cell…and I saw a to-do list. The…you were on it…"

Lui feels a pit form in his stomach. A sick joke, honestly. "Psychopath," he hisses under his breath.

"Underneath it…was a kill list…and everyone involved in his capture was on there—I-I think. I saw Evan and Sydney's names…" he says, struggling to stay awake. "He…um, Cry was in my cell with me…he said something about Felix…but I don't remember…"

"What about Sean, Mark and Marzia?"

"I-I don't know."

Lui sighs, his knuckles becoming white as he grips the steering wheel tightly. But he nods, a little bit more optimistic. "Okay. That's good. We can work with that," he says, turning into the driveway of Berenice's house. "It's…it's better than nothing…"

"I'm sorry I can't remember anything else," Tom murmurs, leaning back and slouching a little. His breaths are a bit quicker than normal, and his cheeks are a bright red.

Lui looks away sadly. "It's not a problem," he says. "Thank you, Syndicate."

Tom raises an eyebrow, his eyes fluttering as his head rolls backwards. "I must be dying if you're actually thanking me," he says.

Lui can only wince.

Tom pats his shoulder. "Hey, you tell that Jonathan fella…I said hi…" he mutters.

"I've only…only ever heard of him…sounds great."

He smiles and squeezes Tom's lingering hand. "Yeah," he says sadly. "I will."

Tom's unwittingly returned smile doesn't stay.

* * *

By the time Jonathan arrives to Lauren's house, everyone but Brock has came in safely.

Everybody is clearly worried. The tension can be slit with a knife.

Lauren, whose relations to Brock are only sorta known, though everybody thinks they're dating, does her best to ease the tightness in everybody's shoulders. Her hands are obviously full.

Jonathan camps out on the back deck, watching Lauren's retired cop dog bathe in the LA sunlight. He stays in the shade, though. It's nice but he already feels overwhelmed by the new smells alone.

He's still greatly bothered. Despite the change of location, nothing has actually changed. Lui's breakdown and hints disturb him almost as much as Evan's last words and death.

"How are you feeling?"

He turns and looks up at Lauren as she joins him on the patio. "I'm fine," he says. "Enjoying the…air, I guess."

She laughs. "The air is horrible."

"No kidding," Jonathan says. He's always lived more out in the open. North Carolina has its benefits like that. He looks at Lauren. "Um…what about you? You seem concerned and busy."

She smiles and nods. "Suddenly having eleven people in your house does tend to make me concerned and busy," she says. "Not to mention Brock being behind…"

"He usually isn't," Jonathan agrees. "Does he have friends in LA?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't had any real contact with him in nearly a decade," she says a bit sadly. "He got caught up in some gang activity and fell off the map."

"Yeah, that usually happens when people get caught up in gang activity," Jonathan says dryly

"I was close to turning him in, but I couldn't really bring myself to actually do it," she says.

"Why don't you turn us in? We're wanted in a lot of states," he says.

She smiles sympathetically. "I know what's happening," she says. "Not to mention I got kicked from the force a few weeks ago for beating up the wrong people."

Jonathan chuckles bitterly. "Fun."

She doesn't speak. She smiles faintly and observes the grass. But then she makes conversation again, and Jonathan feels like the outcome won't be beneficial. "I'm sure you want to know more about this new group of friends," Lauren says.

"Yeah, do you know anything?"

"I know that they used to be criminals," she tells him. "Something broke them. I'm pretty sure it's this Dark fellow."

"What makes you so sure?" he asks, his voice a tone below challenging.

"Just because I'm dishonorably discharged, Jonathan, doesn't mean I don't have eyes in the frickin' sky," she says. "I know a problematic person when I see one."

He nearly rolls his eyes, but he visibly deflates. The conversation did turn out to be non-beneficial.

"His name rings a bell, though," she says. "Dark Fischback, I mean."

He looks at her. "Okay, what bells?"

"Well, if he has an Asian descent, dark brown hair and black eyes, then Dark Fischback is wanted for illegal arms, possession of illicit substances and the reckless uses of explosives."

"What does that mean?"

"Mm…well, ten years ago, there was this huge explosion in this warehouse. It was here, in LA, and it was a bad one," she says. "Four or five people were recovered. They barely survived. There might've been three more. One of the survivors begged the police to look, but nobody was found. No bodies, no traces, no nothing."

"Where did they go?"

She shurgs. "No idea," she says. "It'd be interesting to ask your people of interest. They might know more. Whoever they is."

He can only nod.

"Lauren!" Scotty suddenly shouts, bursting out into the patio. "We need your help. Brock's hurt. He's hurt real bad."

Neither Jonathan nor Lauren hesitate to scramble inside.

The side of Brock's face is dusted with cuts and glass, and there's a gash stretching from his knee to his ankle. He's bruised, and his hair is slightly singed by fire, but he's alive. But his whole front is nearly soaked with gasoline. Brock isn't the only center of attention though. There's another man with a bleeding side and a bloody mess of a forehead. His entire left forearm is blistered with burns, but it's obvious that this man had survived worse. His skin is mangled above his burn, obviously resulting from a much worse wound from the past.

It makes Jonathan think despite the weight of the situation. Because if this theory is true, and it probably is, then it would leave Jonathan with more questions than answers.

And he really can not handle being left in the dust anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on a whole other note, feedback is always appreciated :)


	6. 2007 Memory Ln S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are about fourteen or fifteen chapters. i'd call this a halfway mark but it's not lmao. the plot thickens, though, and i've given intense thought about the sequel and whether or not I wanna post it. if i dont, though, there'll be a lot of loose ends.

"I'm sorry we couldn't rescue you sooner."

"None of us blame you," Evan points out. Felix smiles faintly, slightly appreciative but unconvinced. "Really, P. We all did good."

He sighs and slouches. "We only kicked a nineteen year old boy to the ground and smashed his head into a wall to lock him up," he mutters.

"Quit being a buzzkill. He deserved it," Evan snaps, his voice raising a bit too high for his tastes. He cringes. "Sorry."

"You're a true Canadian," Felix comments wryly. They both share laughter—but it's short-lived. He sighs. "What will we do now? Mark's still got a lot of potential surgeries…not to mention everyone's recovery."

"I guess we should just go where we take ourselves as usual," Evan says. His eyes, bloody and tired from the result of his captivity, look down and distant. "Lui recovered so well…and now we're back to square one…"

"He's young but he's tough," Felix points out. "He'll make it."

"I'm not doubting it. He wants out of that hellhole too…but he has his moments where he just…loses himself in his…tendencies," Evan says. "Those moments always worry me."

"You'll be there to stop them," he rebutes.

Evan shakes his head sadly. "Come on, P. Don't ignore it," he says. "Dark may be secure now, but I still want him dead."

"Why?"

"Brother of Mark and friend of ours or not, he's the devil," Evan says. "Do you not see the result? Don't be blind. He's wicked smart and too clever in that psychotic way, you know? He'll come back, Felix. He'll kill us all."

Those words hang with Felix heavily when he wakes up from the flashback that manifested as a dream. His eyes flutter open, dry and heavy with exhaustion. He's in a bed with his burned arm propped up on a few comfortable pillows. He turns his head a little, and sees the familiar face of Jonathan. He's only seen pictures from surveilance and Vanoss' spoardic messages, but he's still a familiar face.

But remembering made his chest twinge.

"Evan…hade rätt…" he utters out.

Jonathan looks up and at him, having just then realized that he'd awoke. "What?"

Felix blinks blearily and looks at him. "Vanoss," he says.

Jonathan tenses up. "What about him?"

"He…he saw it all coming…" Felix manages, though his head starts to hurt and waking up became the worst idea ever. His arm hurt. "He knew…"

"What did he know?"

Felix grits his teeth as he sits up. "Vanoss saw a lot of things coming," he says, his voice strained with the effort. "This was one of them."

Jonathan stares thoughtfully, his eyes framed heavily by his frown. "…And what did he do about it?"

Felix nearly answers, but he stops himself and thinks. Jonathan wouldn't be asking that if he knew. But then again, a lot of the group couldn't maintain a very good spirit after Dark's previous rampage. Lui had been more the one to pull through and create a failsafe. "I haven't heard from him in a while," he points out.

"Supposedly you ordered him dead," Jonathan mutters.

"Who told you that?"

"Some guy named Cry," he says. "One of your friends, or whatever the hell you guys are."

"You can't trust him," Felix snaps. He makes a face. "That makes me sound really bad…"

Jonathan chuckles. "Yeah, no kiddin'," he agrees. "But Brock's cleared the situation up enough."

"That's good. Is he okay?" he inquires, swinging his hurting legs over the side of the bed.

"He'll be fine," Jonathan says, eyeing him. "You shouldn't stand. You should rest."

"Rest isn't for us right now," Felix points out. "There's a storm out there right now, and it's brewing up six others if we don't hurry to stop them."

"Before you go, Felix…"

He looks at the blue-eyed man. "What do you want?"

"You have more burn scars on your arm," Jonathan says. "What happened?"

"I had my action days," he answers almost timidly. "They're just results, y'know? Battle scars. We all have them."

He doesn't look entirely believing, but then he sighs and stands. "Let me help you," he says. "My ass'll get kicked if I don't do that at the very least."

Felix only nods and takes the chance to accept help.

Because God knows he'll desperately need it to destroy Dark.

* * *

Berenice has always been a little blessing on the blight that is sometimes this world.

Lui often feels a slight smile in his heart whenever he's around. David, despite having broken things off from her in the end, chose a good woman to share his heart with. Of course, there are a few exceptions. She's always been a bit of the seeker—or the one to clean up messes. She knew enough sketchy people who often left a trail of some sort behind. Sometimes they're bodies. A blackmarket undertaker, if one would.

"What would you like me to do with her?" she asks when he takes Sydney's cold body in.

"She just needs to be taken to the North Sky," he says. "A friend of mine, Arlan, is there."

She smiles faintly. "Arlan. Yeah. I remember him," she says.

She doesn't have the same conversation when he brings in Tom's still-warm body. His cheeks are a bright red and there's drying sweat on his forehead, but it doesn't change the fact that he's dead.

Berenice looks at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry for your losses," she says. "I know how you feel."

"It won't be easy," he agrees. "Dark is making a comeback."

"I can see that now." She sighs. "I'm worried now. Is…is everyone okay?"

"I can't say for certain," Lui murmurs. "I…I haven't gotten into contact with them just yet, but they were fine last I checked."

She nods. "Alright." She looks like she's about to say her farewell when she sees Lui cradling his arm. "Is it broken?"

"It feels like it," he mutters.

"Sit down, Lu. I'll take care of it before you leave, okay?"

"You don't have to, you know."

"I still want to. Sit."

So he does.

He ends up leaving her house with an arm in a sling and a twinge in his chest. It doesn't feel right being so calm about Tom and Sydney. Perhaps he's suffering from shock again. It would explain his drifting mind.

He parks Anthony's car in the airport lot, pulling his bag from the trunk. He stuffs Sydney's bag into his before he locks the car and leaves it behind. He tosses the keys in the glove compartment though. His bag had just been weighed when his phone rings. P is calling.

He frowns slightly and answers. "P—"

" _Oh, thank god! You're alive_ ," Felix cries out in relief.

Lui nearly sighs. "I'm guessing you're halfway to a hospital."

" _What? No!_ "

"Yeah, yeah. Stop bullshittin'," Lui says dryly.

" _Fine. I got into a car crash,_ " he mutters. " _With your friend Brock._ "

"Sounds just peachy over there," he snaps. "I'll kill you if he's dead or dying."

" _He's fine! Really! He's out here in LA with me and your friends. Lauren is here, too. She has a really cute dog,_ " he half-rants. " _I don't think Brock should be standing though. He got a bad cut on his leg._ "

"Okay."

" _…What? That's it?_ "

"Well what do you want me to say? _Congrats_?" he snarks.

Felix chuckles. " _Well, anyways, your friends are asking where you are,_ " he says.

"Airport, on my way to LA. Why aren't they actually talking then? Have you not programmed your phone to not explode yet?" he asks.

" _Um._ "

"You should fix that."

" _Why! Dark's voice sounds exactly like Mark's!_ "

Lui just rolls his eyes. "Moving on."

" _Ha! I win. Okay. Anyways, I'm pretty sure Cry got injected with that drug,_ " Felix says.

"I suspected it," Lui mutters. "It…killed Kricken and Syndacite two hours ago."

" _…They're dead?_ "

"Yeah. I left them with Berenice," he says somberly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

" _…Bah. It's…fine._ "

Lui shifts his grip on his phone and moves the conversation onward. "Dark probably has everyone else if he has Cry," he points out.

" _He probably doesn't have Marzia. I've yet to receive any threatening if you don't do this then she dies kind of message,_ " he states. " _But I don't know where she is._ "

"She's clever," Lui says. "She'll find her way."

" _I don't doubt it but he's wicked smart,_ " Felix reminds him.

"Yeah, I know," he snaps. "Have you got anything else useful or is that all?"

" _Your friends have a lot of questions I know you don't want me answering for you,_ " Felix says. " _One of the questions just so happens to be why I have burn scars on my arm._ "

Lui makes a face. "That's…that's a story I'd rather not revisit," he says. He sighs loudly. "It's in the file Luke got his hands on."

Felix pauses for a second before he makes a sound. " _There's drama,_ " he says. " _Apparently, Luke read and deleted the files. Any digital trail has a destructive virus. Hm, sounds nasty. He isn't talking about it._ "

Thank every divine being out there for Luke. Honestly. "That's…good, I guess," he struggles to say.

" _You never really wanted to talk about it anyway,_ " he says.

"You can tell them what you can to satisfy them," Lui instructs. "I'll only tell my side of the story when I'm dead."

" _That's a really dark promise, Lu,_ " Felix says distressfully. " _Don't throw that shit around._ "

"I'm not trying to, but I'm just saying. Dark is gonna get to me either way and I'll die," he points out.

" _No, you won't. You won't, Lu,_ " Felix snaps. " _I'll kill Dark myself, and you'll live to see it._ "

Lui doesn't believe him.

" _I swear I will, okay?_ " he goes on. " _Don't pull a Vanoss. He's already predicted more shit in our lives and…he's…he's not exactly around anymore…_ "

He sniffs. "Sorry," he mutters.

" _I'll pick you up from the airport, okay? Same vehicle as usual, okay?_ " Felix states, slightly nervous.

"I'll be in LA in about five hours," Lui says. "Don't be late."

He doesn't give Felix the satisfaction of saying bye. He just hangs up the phone, and gets in line for his plane that's boarding. He sees Mark's face, though, with his dyed but fiery red hair in the distant crowd down the hallway, and he knows he's getting to be too careless.

* * *

"Hey, do you remember M?"

Evan blinks and looks at Lui from the driver seat of the car. "Of course I do," he says. "Why ask?"

"Craig reminds me of M."

Evan's eyes glance over his shoulder to the sleeping youth. His brow creases and he looks sad, because Lui is right. Craig reminds him of the innocence that M once was. "No need for nostalgia," he says idly, making a turn and speeding onto the highway.

"Tyler is his own person to be honest," Lui goes on, mostly to himself. "He has a big heart though…"

Evan smiles a little. The two are in the back seat, sleeping. They're both exhausted after nearly drowning in a bad car chase. Evan and Lui had been caught up in it, too, and while Evan originally wanted to leave them in a motel room, Lui saw a different potential.

"I see P in Tyler," Evan says.

"What? How? They're not exactly alike, you know," Lui points out.

He chuckles. "You know—big heart underneath a shell," he explains. "Like a hermit crab."

Lui laughs as well. "Hermit crabs are deceivingly thicker than they appear," he agrees humorously.

"Heh, yeah." Evan pulls out his phone. "Speaking of thick, Derek got a cute new girlfriend."

Lui giggles. "I bet you two are already the best of friends," he says.

"Yeah! We are, actually." He shows him a picture of a curvy latina, not entirely porcelain perfect as social media likes to flaunt about latina women, but still rather cute. "This is Arianna. She likes gaming."

"Question is—is she good at it?"

"Better than me in…some areas."

Lui laughs again.

Tyler opens his eyes and bites into the apple Lauren had offered him three minutes ago for a simple distraction. By all means, he had no appetite—the situation and the tension in the air is making it difficult to stomach some food, but the juice flying from the apple and the loud crunch satisfies his agitation.

It's only been three hours, but in that short amount of time, they learned that the files Luke discovered had been annihilated, that Felix won't tell his whole story, and that Lui is actually keeping more secrets about his history with this Dark Fischback than it likely seems. Quite frankly, all the secrets piss Tyler off. He can't find any use in the bullshit—like, at all. And he can tell that everybody else isn't doing much better. Only Luke is calm, and when spoken to, he'd spew a load of crap about how he's doing everyone favors by it.

Nobody wants these "favors", though, and Tyler can see this discourse sticking with most of the group until someone explains it without any sort of bullshitting cloak of secrecy.

"Are you still angry?" Craig asks as he sits down next to Tyler.

"Fuck yeah, dude, I'm pissed," he states, sighing angrily. "Why aren't you mad, huh? They're keeping a lot of secrets for people who claim to be open."

Craig frowns. "They probably have good reason," he points out. "I mean, I totally don't agree with it but they don't do anything like this without…well, a good reason."

Tyler snorts. "Yeah, whatever. It's all about perspective," he mutters bitterly.

"Not…really. But okay."

He just rolls his eyes.

Of course, Craig doesn't leave it alone. He's bothered by Tyler's own sense of discourse. "Why are you so against it?" he asks. "It's not like it'll end the world."

"I know it'll end us, though," Tyler says.

Craig moves away and gives an unhappy glare. "What does that even _mean_? Are you predicting our break-up or someone dying?"

"I don't know! But it'll end _something_ ," he snaps, his face tensing with anger.

Craig's glare intensifies. "Is that a haunch? Because you can't survive on haunches for an eternity, Tyler."

"What, you think I don't know that? Of _course_ I do! Which is why I don't, by the way, because that's fucking stupid and everybody knows it but it's important in these kinds of things, sometimes, and they're especially important when the two people who hauled our asses out of a rock and a hard place lie!"

Craig goes silent, because it's true. Evan lied and Lui isn't fairing much better.

Neither are Luke and Felix.

"Are you guys finished?"

They both glance over their shoulders to Jonathan, whose face is an aching neutral.

"Yeah, we're done," Tyler says as he stands up. "What's happenin'?"

"Nothing. I just wanted you two to shut up," he snarks. "Also, Felix needs everyone to meet up in the living room. He says he needs to explain some things."

Tyler doesn't hesitate to get up. Craig is lagging, though.

"Are you two okay?" Jonathan asks the youth.

"Um…I don't know, honestly," Craig replies. "He's just so angry about this cloak of lies BS. I mean—I totally understand him, but…I don't agree."

Jonathan just doesn't say anything—but Craig understands that, too, and he knows it's not gonna be easy to convince everyone that there are reasons for secrets, and that some of them should be kept beyond after death.

* * *

Lui feels nothing but an impending doom when the plane lands. He doesn't care about whether or not Mark is on the plane—that's an irrelevant note, and even if he is, he wouldn't do anything because Mark doesn't enjoy violent and public outbursts. Ironic, considering the fact that his twin brother is actually extremely prone to those. In fact, Lui finds himself to be rightfully happy that it's Mark tailing him rather than Dark.

He's watchful when he roams through the airport. He doesn't see anything out of the corner of his eyes, but he does see Mark if he scrutinizes the area. It's rather unnerving, and Lui hadn't exactly expected Mark—a ghost until now—to pop up and make a move. His discreet attitude doesn't help ease Lui's worries, mostly because of Dark's sudden influence.

He stops at the pick-up and drop-off area of the airport, pulling out his phone. He rings up P, and puts it to his ear.

" _Hello?_ "

"Hi. I'm in LA," he says. "And you're not here."

" _I figured that much. But everybody's arguing and have yet to give me any oppurtunity to leave,_ " Felix says grumpily.

"What happened?" He sighs. "Let me guess. They're tired of the secrets."

" _Extremy angry, too. Tyler broke a window._ "  
He shakes his head. "Dammit…" he breathes out. "Are they cooling down?"

" _All the yelling matches have been moved outside,_ " Felix reports. " _Whoever isn't outside is inside sulking and thinking. I've stuffed myself in Lauren's bedroom. It's not getting any better to be honest._ "

"They seriously can't do this to us," he mutters. "We need teamwork now more than ever."

" _I think it would've been easier if you'd have told them why you brought them on board in the first place,_ " he points out. " _I mean,_ I _barely even know why. Some of them aren't exactly qualified for what you and Vanoss had for standards, you know._ "

"What we saw in their first impressions was what we judged," Lui states. "Besides, neither of us wanted an army. I still don't."

" _Yeah, because Tyler's temper is good for an armyman,_ " Felix says dryly.

"Heh, now you're just a bitter old man," Lui cackles. "Anyways, you gotta pick me up. Our mutual friend knows no rest."

" _Yeah. Okay. Is it better if I send your cooler friends over instead? Because I'm…not feeling right,_ " he says, his voice dampening as he speaks.

Lui understands. Felix isn't feeling like a healthy horse. He, quite frankly, isn't either. "Sure thing," he agrees. "Stay safe, okay? Stay frosty."

" _…I will._ "

And then he hangs up.

"That was Felix, right?"

Lui feels his shoulders bunch up as he turns and faces Mark. "Wouldn't you know?" Lui asks briskly. "I thought you two were in contact."

"Not since Dark's breakout," he says.

"Did you side with him?"

Mark's face becomes twisted with six different kinds of emotions. "Not willingly," he says. "He's got Sean on that stupid drug. Cry, too. Whatever they've done in the past few weeks was never of their will. And he's only let me off the hook enough because I'm his brother."

"You know I can't believe that," Lui points out.

Mark looks a bit sad and betrayed, but he also understands. "Yeah," he agrees. He pulls out a flashdrive that's hooked on a familiar, customized chain. "I'm not supposed to be doing anything. I'm actually supposed to be picking up a heavy-duty sniper rifle. Dark wants to kill you with it."

Lui stares at the drive. "Of course he does…" he murmurs distracedly. He knows that device anywhere. It'd been shipped off to Marzia a few weeks before Evan died, and it held so much more than a few files. "Why are you giving me this? It could save Sean and Cry, couldn't it?"

"I don't even know. Abd I don't have that chance at all," Mark states. "Well—I mean, I'm totally optimistic…but optimism doesn't exactly kill your psycho bro."

Lui snorts and cautiously takes the flashdrive. Nothing physically happens, and he tucks it into his pocket. "Thank you for this," he says.

"Yeah…it's the least I can do," Mark says. He frowns. "Tell that Jonathan I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I…was the second guy when Evan died," he explains stiffly. "He probably never mentioned it to you."

"I wasn't nosey," Lui mutters. "Did you actually kill Evan?"

Mark shakes his head. "No, of course not," he says probably a bit too loudly. "I was the driver. Dark totally left me behind, though, and I managed some other things."

"…What kind?"

"The Hoodini kind."

" _Seriously?_ " He sighs, and spots Luke's familiar face down the way. "Okay, you know what? You get going. Keep your head on your shoulders. Stay safe."

Mark nods. "You too," he says, and he turns away.

Lui moves from where he's been standing, coming into clear view for Luke to see. He pulls himself into the passenger seat, placing his bag under the glove compartment.

"Who were you talking to just now?"

He looks up and over his shoulder to Craig, who lurks in the back seat with a face of curiosity and slight suspicion. "…LA contact," he lies smoothly. "It's okay, you know. I trust him enough meet up."

"Oh, okay," he murmurs, his voice becoming distracted as he starts to get back to thinking.

"How are things at Lauren's?" Lui asks.

"Not gonna lie, it's pretty bad," Luke replies. "It's stupid. They can't agree with anything at all."

"It's partially your fault," Craig points out.

"We don't need that," Lui snaps. "We need teamwork now more than ever. Dark thrives on slowness and confusion."

Neither of them answer, but Lui doesn't need one. They hadn't expected Dark to have such a violent outburst the first time around, and stacking the surprise on top of the grief and betrayal just pushed them straight into his hands. And now that the deciding factor is the group Lui and Evan have compiled, he isn't feeling very certain about any kind of upper hand until the last few moments.

"What can you tell us?" Craig asks quietly.

Lui couldn't help but think about it for a few seconds. He's staring ahead at the road for a few seconds before he finds a fairly solid answer. He smiles a little, bemirthed and nostalgic all at once.

"Evan loved owls enough to make it his signature," he says, holding the flashdrive in his fist to show Craig the said mark hanging from that small silver chain. "Anything in general marked with this was once his."

"So?"

"Search LA, Craig. This city has always been a sanctuary. A safehouse, sometimes. It's totally not right now but where ever this symbol is, you'll find something," Lui says. He puts the flashdrive away. "There's something at Simone's house."

"Simone?"

"Marcel's wife. She has a house here in LA. It's more like a place she drops by whenever she's in LA, though, so breaking in won't be difficult."

Craig sighs. "Why can't you tell us anything directly?"

"I don't tell anyone anything," Lui says, slightly chuckling. "I never spoke to Evan about how I felt about Dark after he got caught. He took a leap of faith with it."

"How did you guys catch him in the first place, anyways?" Craig inquires. "Can't you just do it again?"

"Too costly," Lui states, slightly shaking his head. "Besides, he's too smart. We'll have to kill him this time."

Craig doesn't ask anymore after that, and Lui allows himself a few moments to relax.

The drive is quiet from that point on. Lui isn't bothered by it in the least bit, because he's thinking, but he's not too deep in his thoughts. He knows he has to keep a clear head on his shoulders to deal with the bombardment that will be, indefinitely, coming.

"What do you think Dark's next move is?" Luke suddenly asks.

Lui regards him for a solid second before he looks ahead. "He wants to kill someone," he says. "He's angry. The best case scenario is being sniped very suddenly. The worst case scenario would be getting kidnapped. He usually tortures his hostages for weeks on end."

Luke's face goes grim. He would know. "I'm taking a guess and saying you're on that list," he half-mutters.

"If I'd been with Evan when he died, I guarantee I'd have died a painful death too," he states.

Craig sighs. "Everything's so confusing," he mumbles.

"It'll get better," Lui assures him.

Craig almost believes him.

It's quiet again, but when Lui is browsing through his phone trying to nitpick useful and likely trustworthy contacts, Luke suddenly jerks the car to a stop. He looks up in surprise, watching a huge ass truck zoom past. It's only inches away from their car.

"Jesus Christ!" Craig shouts.

"What the hell was that?" Lui demands.

"Brock and Felix got rammed into like that," Luke explains as he backs up almost recklessly and starts to speed in the opposite direction. "Brock's leg has a big ass cut and Felix's arm got burned. They both have concussions of some sort."

"Dammit," Lui hisses, pulling a gun out of his bag. He loads it and makes sure that it's cocked, and he looks over his shoulder to the driver.

It's Sean.

Sean McLoughlin, with his stupid green hair and dark eyes. With his loud Irish accent and fairly pale complexion. Why did Mark have to fall for him?

"Oh, fuck…" he growls out. "Jesus, I can't shoot him."

"What? Why! Why the hell not? He's clearly trying to kill us!" Craig cries.

"I know, but my informants are reliable!" Lui snaps. "Not to mention he's an old good friend. Likely on the drug."

" _Likely_?"

"Stop asking questions!" he shouts. "We're gonna die if you do!"

"Fuck off, Lui! You need to start fucking explaining!" Craig shouts back. "All of your secrets will kill us!"

Lui's heart rises up to his throat as his muscles freeze over. He knows those words. His hesitation prevents him from properly preparing as the car is suddenly slammed into head on in the front. Lui feels the world fly around him, and he knows he hit his head against glass because the stinging feeling is ridiculously familiar.

When the world stops spinning, he's half-awake. He can't help but recall Evan saying those same words in similar context to Felix and Cry.

"Your secrets will kill us!" Evan shouts.

It'd been mere weeks before his unpredicted death. They were on a "job".

Felix flinches at his raised voice and Cry keeps his head down in guilt. Sean, Mark and Marzia are on the sidelines acting as gray moral areas, and Lui clearly remembers repeatedly tugging at Evan's jacket.

"You two aren't doing any better!" Felix snaps back. "Waltzing around with that stupid team of yours…you call them _friends_! Weren't they supposed to be your robots or something?"

"That's not the point!" Evan cries. "Dark is out! He is out there!" His voice becomes hoarse, and it's starting to crack with desperation. "He's going to kill us all, Felix! This stupid fucking drug you all put out there will be used against our team!"

Lui gently tugs at his sleeve again, but Evan pulls away.

"He's going to come back, you fu…" He grits his teeth and clenches his fist, punching a hole in the wall closest to him. "You goddamn idiots!"

"Don't put all the blame on us, Vanoss," Felix snarks. "You're not exactly innocent."

Evan sighs stressfully. "Fuck off, P," he growls. "Keep that shit to yourself. We've got bigger problems to worry about."

"Dark…"

Lui blinks himself back into the world. He's upside down, held back by his threateningly tight seatbelt. He puts his hands down and unbuckles himself, coughing on smoke as he struggles his body free.

"Luke, Craig…" he croaks out.

Craig wakes up and looks at Lui almost helplessly. "Wh…"

Lui gives him support as he helps the youth out of his seat. "Hide," he gasps, feeling a sharp pain in his side. "Get in the trunk. Use whatever. Just hide."

"Wh—what? Why?"

Lui shoves the flashdrive into his hand. "They'll take me," he explains quietly. "I don't know about Luke, but they'll take me."

"Lui, you're scaring me," Criag says, clearly scared. But he's moving to the back, mostly because Lui is shoving him. "Why won't you hide?"

"Dark has a kill list," Lui says as he pulls an extra layer over Craig. He wipes blood from his brow and grimaces. "I…I am undoubtedly on it…"

Craig's eyes widen. "You're going to lay down and die?"

Lui chuckles. "I've been horizontially reclined before, Craig," he states. "I'm not doing that again."

He gives him an odd look.

"Don't fuck up the flashdrive. It has a destructive virus and a mini EMP," he says. "Get it to everyone else, okay?"

Craig nods numbly, and feels like a vulnerable baby as Lui snakes his way out of the car and into the wide open LA air. He hears gunshots that hit flesh, and then there's silence.

He's very certain he heard Lui die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the winzky family play a fairly strong role in the sequel, too. theyre mary and gary sues otherwise. hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
